Elevator to Nowhere
by trenzallure
Summary: When the Doctor and Amelia Pond discover a mysterious hotel that shouldn't exist, it becomes a challenge to figure out what's real, what's dangerous and what's going to happen next.
1. Prologue - The Ongoing Storm

The sound of a thousand filled stadiums cheering with applause resonated through the skies as a tremendous barrage of thunder broke through the clouds. Flashes of lightning clashed viciously with the downpour of rain diving towards the ground. A lonesome building holding its ground amidst the chaos gently quivered, though its integrity never wavered. As the brooding clouds competed for air space, the guests inside continued about their usual leisurely activities, for the inside of 'The Vaconian' was a much different story.

The windows were shrouded in a mirage of strikingly superb weather and not a sound of the disturbed world outside could be heard. Visitors of the building hustled and bustled about in their own pre-booked world, completely unaware of the bedlam going on all around them. It was only when the chandeliers and the tables and the glasses in their hands began to tremble did they remember the lands beyond the four borders of their isolation.

High up above the raging storm, something bright was tearing down to earth, heading directly for the hotel, which shot up past the clouds as if reaching for space. The soaring shape above was gaining speed and size as it smashed into the atmosphere. A meteor, small for what it was, hurtled towards the forlorn structure and with an enormous crash tore its way through the top half, landing several hundred feet away with a loud thump in the fields below.

The hotel shook and swayed. The upper half now resting on an angle, the lower part shuddering as bricks and glass and rubble dived to the ground like birds on their prey. Inside was pure pandemonium. Golden chandeliers rattled and fell. Stairwells were blocked by rubble collapsing in heaps. Bedrooms were demolished, kitchens were engulfed in flames that consumed spilled oil like night consumes day. As the hotel crumbled, lives were swallowed whole and without relish.

Minutes later, the force of the meteor took its absolute toll. The apex of the building broke off, splintering every piece of support all the way down to the lobby. The weight of ten-thousand people's pay-per-night world toppled and careered into a gigantic pile of dust and debris. What was left of the hotel was deteriorating at a gentle pace, as if the destruction was wallowing in its own handiwork.


	2. The Shadow in the Field

The sun shone effervescently down onto the lush fields which a young, scruffy looking man was drearily hiking along. His backpack, labelled 'Thomas Green', was hoisted uncomfortably on his shoulders and boredom was smeared across his face. He dropped his belongings to the ground and began to run. Sharp strides stretched out over the meadows and with each bound he felt his spirits soar.

His elation was short lived. It suddenly turned to curiosity when the shadow of a towering structure came into view in the distance. Thomas halted in his tracks. Bewilderment overcame him, but with a quick glance back towards his possessions, Thomas hastily decided to investigate. He raced through the fields for what seemed like hours until finally he reached the base of the mysterious building. There were no parking lots; no footpaths; no shrubbery. No decoration of any kind. The only real feature was eleven large, Hollywood style letters sticking out above the great barred doors, forming the words 'The Vaconian'.

The hotel, which looked both old and new, simply stood alone, in a barely noticeable dimple in the field, as if the ground could only just take the weight. Thomas pressed his face against the stocky glass doors, but the tinted entrance showed nothing but a dark reflection of the sunlit day. He pulled on the handles but to no avail; the door was sealed tightly shut.

Taking a fleeting look back at the breezy countryside, Thomas followed the edge of the building around to the side, running his hand loosely along the wall. He almost walked straight past the thickset wooden door that blended heavily into the building. Upon noticing it, he grabbed the handle and pushed and pulled but it did not yield. The door appeared to be locked. Not one for giving up so easily after having come so far, he leaned up close to it and with as much strength as he could muster, rammed his shoulder once, twice, three times before it gave way.

Cautiously, Thomas stepped inside. As if it always had been, a furious storm began to twist and turn through the air outside, sending a gust of wind through the doorway and blowing it vehemently shut. Thomas jumped out of his skin, but collected himself and cautiously carried on.

...

Inside the hotel lobby, life was swimming through the air, with everyone breathing it in. Elegance covered the room from floor to wall to ceiling to floor. Antique furniture that somehow managed to come across as modern decorated the floors, while contemporary golden chandeliers with a touch of classicality lit up the lobby from above. Chatter from the guests - some relaxing with drinks, others jostling about - fed a buzz to the air that drowned out the downpour outside.

''I'm only staying for the weekend,'' murmured a stout old lady, ''just long enough-''

''Quite a view from up top, though I could never sleep so high from the ground,'' a middle-aged man said, cutting the lady off as he walked by with a friend.

''Waiter! Excuse me, waiter!'' a portly gentlemen yelled over the crowd. From the side of the room a noticeable staff door creaked open and out stepped Thomas, overwhelmed by what he saw. He had never heard of a hotel of this size, let alone one in the middle of nowhere, filled with all kinds of people. Attentively, he made his way towards the service desk, seemingly bumping into several people as he did so, though they carried on without noticing.

On the back wall, opposite the main entrance, four shiny silver elevators stood next to each other, gleaming with modernity while blending perfectly with the style of the rest of the room. The mix of old and new messed with Thomas' head. He felt like he was watching a three-dimensional film without wearing those special glasses; as if there were two layers of the hotel and they were overlapping. He reached the desk just as a lean, blonde woman, still with her youth, placed a phone back on its holder and looked up cheerfully to greet him.

''Good morning sir, how can I be of assistance?'' she asked.

''Hi, um,'' said Thomas, noticing her nametag, ''Alison. Could you tell me, uh… where am I?''

''Are you feeling okay, sir? This is 'The Vaconian', the number one sky high hotel of the age and country. You must be staying here.''

''No, I was just walking by, I…''

His expression suddenly changed as he noticed Alison becoming scared, and he swiftly recovered his manner.

''Sorry,'' he said, ''long week; haven't had much sleep.

''Would you like to be escorted to the 'Recreation and Relaxation' rooms up on the fiftieth floor?'' said Alison, still a bit mystified.

''Please,'' replied Thomas as a tall, emaciated young bellboy appeared out of nowhere next to him. He was dressed all in black, aside from a white nametag and decorative gold rimming the ends of his sleeves. Even his hair was black, and his eyes appeared to be.

''This is Cole. He'll be happy to take you there,'' said Alison. Cole simply nodded. Thomas raised his hand awkwardly. He turned to walk away with Cole but Alison called him back.

''One second, I need to scan you in,'' she said while retrieving a device from under the counter. She held it in front of Thomas's face and a layer of thin red light emanated from the gadget like a barcode scanner, which made its way across his complexion from the chin up. When it came into contact with his mesmerized eyes, Alison's own narrowed minutely as the scanner flickered and the red light withdrew back into it. Alison glanced at the screen on the back of the device in utter perplexity, but then promptly returned to normal and looked up at Thomas.

''All done,'' she smiled at him. Thomas returned the gesture and followed Cole towards the elevators.

...

The trendy but aged elevator rose at a lightning pace up through the many hundreds of luxurious and varied floors. A digital panel centred above the doors displayed the level number. Almost a blur, the numbers slowed at forty-three, forty-six, forty-eight. At level fifty the lift jolted to a complete stop and the wide doors drew back into the walls. Cole made his way out but before Thomas could exit the elevator the doors slammed shut, trapping him inside.

The hydraulics of the lift whirred and screeched as it powered up again. Thomas frantically pressed the emergency stop button but it was futile; the elevator seemed to be working of its own accord. It halted with a loud clunk. Thomas let out a sigh of relief and began pushing the 'open door' button. Another clunk and the entire lift dropped a couple of metres. Lunging for the railings that encircled his newfound claustrophobia, Thomas held on for dear life.

Down it dropped once more, plunging several feet before slowing as if it had landed on a spring, and then launched upwards at an incredible speed. The force of the thrust sent Thomas crashing to his knees. He struggled to breathe from the weight pressing on his lungs, and felt as if his curious nature had finally gotten the better of him. The panel over the door read fifty-five; sixty-five; eighty; ninety-nine. The digitised numbers had become a haze.

Thomas lost his grip on the railings and began to float. Gravity was becoming obsolete. The elevator hit floor two hundred and twenty-two and a flash of electric blue light burst its way inside and filled all corners of the box. Just beyond the wall, a couple waiting patiently for the elevator walked in after the doors slid apart. They casually sauntered in to the now empty lift.

...

On a faintly cloudy day, with the sun peering through, a big blue box steadily materialised out of thin air. The second the grinding roar of the TARDIS stopped, a man dressed in a tweed jacket on top of a grey plaid shirt, a red bowtie, rolled up trousers and black boots stepped out, along with a female companion sporting a blue jacket over a florid red shirt that matched her fiery red hair, a short skirt over black stockings and black boots that matched those of her lead. The Doctor closed the TARDIS doors and inhaled his surroundings. His eyes thinned, and he sniffed the air.

''Earth,'' he diagnosed. ''England. The year twenty-two fifty-four.''

''Hasn't changed much,'' said Amy, taken aback.

''Brand new Earth, same old Amy.''

''Well the sun's out. That's new.''

''You're missing the point,'' said the Doctor, disappointed. Amy looked at him enquiringly. ''Nobody's ever been unimpressed by my sniff analysis,'' he continued, almost offended.

''Oh, don't try to pull that one on me,'' Amy responded, ''I saw the TARDIS monitor. Cheater.''

She smiled at the Doctor, who shook his head and proceeded to lock his time machine. Amy noticed an overwhelming shadowy figure in the remote distance.

''What's that over there?'' she asked. The Doctor spun around to gaze on what she had seen. Puzzled, he walked up beside her and stared avidly at the shadow.

''That,'' he declared, ''is a very good question. He swayed to face Amy. She looked up at him and their faces both said the same thing. The Doctor spoke up.

''Fancy a countryside hike?''


	3. The Scottish Way In

Exhausted, the Doctor and Amy finally reached the doors of the soaring structure. The clouds were nothing compared to the shadow of the hotel, which swallowed them like a black hole. Its reach extended beyond their view, creating the illusion that it could topple over onto them at any second.

''Ah yes,'' said the Doctor, his eyes fixated on the huge letters above the doors, '''The Vaconian'; the number one holiday villa in the country.''

''Why is it in the middle of a field?'' enquired Amy, dumbstruck.

''It's England, everything's in the middle of a field,'' chirped the Doctor, ''even the fields.''

Amy giggled. ''Well, then, a hotel in the middle of nowhere; no car park; no roads; in a future England where the sun is out and there's a distinct lack of any queues. Can't see anything going wrong here.''

She spoke without any attempt at hiding her sarcasm. The Doctor didn't seem to pick up on it, however, as he swiftly turned serious.

''Except something's already gone wrong,'' he stated firmly. ''Everything about this is wrong. 'The Vaconian' doesn't exist.''

''Seems pretty existent to me,'' rebutted Amy, rapping her knuckle on the wall.

''I should say it _can't_ exist,'' explained the Doctor, ''It shouldn't. It hasn't. Not for about eleven years.''

''Maybe they rebuilt it,'' Amy suggested.

''In eleven years?'' pondered the Doctor. ''No, no. It took ten years to fill in the crater. The meteor buried itself in the earth and the dint it left was filled with deadly levels of irrodium,'' he said. ''High pressure, sentient microbes, commonly residing in black holes,'' he added to satisfy Amy's confounded expression. When it remained unchanged-

''Alien death germs,'' sighed the Doctor. Amy mouthed an 'oh'. The Doctor's expression turned to excitement as he scurried to the doors. Latching his hands onto the handles, he turned to his companion.

''Shall we take a peek?'' he asked. Amy's face lit up as she joined him. She folded her arms and leant against the wall while the Doctor shook the doors vigorously in an attempt to open them.

''I think it's locked,'' said Amy amusedly. The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver.

''You're forgetting, Miss Pond,'' he began, a little too proudly, ''that I have this. I will not be stopped by something as trivial as a locked door.''

He aimed the sonic at the door and clicked. A rusty whirring noise emitted from it but nothing happened.

''Deadlocked,'' he muttered.

''Door one, Doctor zero,'' said Amy with a satisfied smirk.

...

After an unusually long walk around to the back of the construct, the duo searched for a way in. They quickly spotted a wooden door, set heavily into the wall and painted so it was almost completely hidden amongst it. A shiny silver handle was all that gave it away. Thought it appeared at first to be perfect, upon closer inspection it was clearly old and worn down. The Doctor reached for the handle and pulled, pushed and yanked but it didn't give way.

''Also locked. Any more suggestions?'' he asked Amy, moving up close and lightly tapping her head with his knuckles.

She shrugged. ''Sonic it or whatever.''

''It's wood, it won't work.''

''All of time and space and you can't get through a wooden door?''

''… It makes good tea.''

''Oh, be a man and kick it down,'' Amy exclaimed. The Doctor looked at her with not-quite-serious hostility.

''I'm not a man, I'm a Time Lord. We don't kick things,'' he stated smugly.

''Yeah? Well I'm Scottish…'' said Amy as she faced the door, raised her leg and slammed the latter into the former. With a bang, the door flew off its hinges and crashed into a dusty, rotten hallway.

''…and we do,'' she concluded with a grin. She stepped through the doorway, a piece of wood from the destroyed door frame swinging lightly overhead.

It was dark. Amy suddenly felt bemused and dread overcame her. The room flickered, as if it were computer generated and was running out of power. Amy felt dizzy; her brain was getting used to the new surroundings and struggling to understand why it had to. It was as though Amy had entered a new dimension without realising.

Something wasn't right, she thought; a feeling that was confirmed as she revolved to see the Doctor following her, slowly walking in from the substantial downpour of rain that had appeared just outside the door. The rain stretched over the fields which were now cowering under massive, dark storm clouds fighting for the best spot in the sky.

''When did it start raining?'' she cried.

''It's not raining,'' he said sceptically, reaching the doorway.

''Doctor, you're getting soaked!''

''Amy, I can assure you it's not raining.''

The Doctor entered the hallway as Amy hurried past him. He felt the same rush of unknowing and trepidation the second he stepped over the threshold. Amy felt it lift when she strode back into the perfect weather and stared up at the sun.

''But…'' she murmured, as the Doctor swivelled on the spot and realised what Amy meant.

''Interesting…'' he mumbled to himself. ''Amy, come inside, it's raining!''

''I… no it isn't,'' trailed Amy. She felt disorientated.

''Amy I can assure you, it _is_ raining!'' howled the Doctor, trying to speak over the raging storm. Amelia collected herself and, fire in her eyes at the Doctor's cheek, re-entered the  
hallway. The noise of the storm had reached levels that made communication impossible, so the Doctor led Amy down the hallway and through another mysterious door. It seemed everything inside the hotel was trying to hide itself. They walked into a narrow hallway, much better kept than the previous room. There was only one doorway across from them at the other end.

''Relative rain. Very interesting,'' chimed the Doctor, his mind still lazily focussed on the phenomenon.

''So, if it is raining outside, whether we see it or not, how come we're both still completely dry?'' asked Amy.

''Well if we knew that already there would be no fun in finding out,'' replied the Doctor happily.

''Doctor, there's noise coming from through here,'' said Amy, pressing her ear against the second door.

''Stand back,'' said the Doctor, whipping out his sonic in the process, ''Now, what's behind door number two?''


	4. Lobbying for a Room

A marvellous sight greeted their eyes as Amy and the Doctor walked into the hotel lobby, through a door that mysteriously matched the beige wall surrounding it. The ceiling rose high above the crowds wandering about below. Talk from the guests filled the air with a life that was inhaled by everyone, seemingly raising the volume of the babble but never getting any higher, like a machine that was charging but not gaining power. Freshly historic chairs, tables, desks and other furniture were uniquely placed around the room, like it was organised to appear scattered.

Beams of light shone down from the eclectic arrangement of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. To Amy they looked brand new, but to the Doctor they seemed ancient. They cautiously meandered through the commotion with carefully placed steps, so as not to bump into anyone and attract attention. Not that attention would be easy to acquire; the sheer scale of the lobby kept everyone oblivious to a couple of insignificant strangers.

Amy knocked shoulders, or at least thought she did, with a passer-by. When the stranger didn't even flinch, Amy shook it off as a trick of the light. Scraps of conversation could be made out as they navigated through the maze of occupants.

''I'm only staying for the weekend,'' muttered a plucky old woman, ''just long enough-''

''Quite a view from up top, though I could never sleep so high from the ground,'' a middle-aged man spoke to his friend, over the top of the aged lady while he passed by.

''Waiter! Excuse me, waiter!'' a stocky gentlemen roared through the crowd. On the rear wall, facing the main, barred entrance of the hotel, four burnished grey elevators were lined up, each with a bright red light around the frame. The Doctor seemed to be the only one who noticed they weren't quite as shiny as everyone else thought.

''There's something… not quite right about this place,'' said Amy, pondering what could possibly be wrong.

''Aside from the fact that it shouldn't be here, yes there is,'' the Doctor responded.

''It's like there are two different places, competing for the same space,'' theorised Amy.

''Curious,'' said the Doctor, ''though I do have to admit, I can see the same place from when I was last here.''

Amy shot him an inquisitive look. ''You've stayed here before?'' she asked him.

''Just the once,'' he started, ''I followed a rogue poltergeist here. He spiked the water supply. Made half the guests think they were trees. Some didn't move for days apart from a little swaying.''

Amy chuckled.

''That wasn't even the worst of it,'' continued the Doctor gleefully.

''Oh yeah?'' asked Amy.

''He stole my complimentary pillow mint.''

He finished with a look of nostalgic sadness. Their laughter carried them all the way to the service desk, though upon their arrival it dissipated quickly.

''Good morning, sir. Madam. How can I-?'' Alison began to greet them but the Doctor interjected with a sudden gravity.

''Why is the front door deadlocked?'' he asked. ''No doors are deadlocked unless there's something to hide.''

''It's a security measure,'' Alison replied, ''nobody gets in or out during Class Two storms.''

The Doctor deliberated on this for a moment.

''Well, you should keep a better check on your back doors,'' he eventually said.

''There are no back doors,'' said Alison, confusion spreading across her face, ''just the main entrance and the emergency docking stations on the upper floors. Is everything okay?''

The Doctor went to respond but before he could he noticed that Alison seemed to be paying closer attention to something behind them. He turned his head to see a young man; tall, scrawny and with a pair of eyes that were gazing at the clerk a little too intently. Alison snapped out of her trance and looked back at the Doctor and Amy as if she was seeing them for the first time.

''Sorry, continue,'' she said. The Doctor went to answer but before he could, Amy rushed in front of him and directed Alison's attention to her instead.

''Good morning. Um,'' she said with an awkward laugh and glance at the Doctor, ''we lost our room key. Uh, sorry about that. Anyway, could we perhaps-''

''Of course, ma'am! What name was the booking under?''

The Doctor stepped back in front of Amy, who stood back with a huff. He yanked the psychic paper from inside his tweed jacket and flashed it in front of Alison's eyes, which lit up like a firework. She blushed.

''I did hear the King's son was visiting from France,'' she spurted, trying to hide her adoration, ''I didn't hear he was so handsome.''

Amy cleared her throat. The Doctor's smirk cleared and he clumsily composed himself. Alison looked embarrassed but quickly collected herself too.

''I just need to scan you in,'' she said shyly. ''One moment.''

She ducked under the counter and began delving through the drawers.

''The Prince of France? She thinks you're the Prince of France?'' Amy whispered disbelievingly.

''I look like royalty don't I?'' asked the Doctor hopefully, though his optimism was pushed away by a change of thought. ''Or do I just look French?''

''When did France get their royal groove back on anyway?'' said Amy. ''I wouldn't have seen that one coming.''

''Neither did they,'' said the Doctor. ''France was invaded, again, in World War Five. Ironically though, its invaders surrendered to the culture and became French themselves.''

Alison returned with a small contraption in her hand. It looked just like a barcode scanner, only larger and with more buttons. The Doctor and Amy stood still while Alison pointed the scanner at them and observed as a thin layer of laser-esque light washed over their faces, not missing a spot. She looked at the back of the scanner and was hit with confusion but swiftly regained normalcy. During this time, the bellboy from across the lobby had made his way over to them, and was stood just behind Amy, who jerked in shock when she realised he was there.

''This is Cole,'' said Alison, placing the scanner down on the desk. Cole nodded in greeting. ''He'll escort you back to your room and a new key will be there when you arrive. Have a nice day.''

''Merci!'' cried the Doctor. Alison resumed her duties. Cole smiled and gestured for them to follow him but the Doctor didn't take his lead.

''You, uh, go on with your hotel-y, escort-y, service-y offer-y things, we know our way back to the room,'' he stammered. Cole attempted to hide his dissatisfaction. He coolly nodded to the Doctor, but remained positioned in front of Amy, blocking her way across the lobby. Awkward silence filled the gap between the three of them, and the Doctor looked to Amy for assistance. Social practices of humans weren't his best skill. Amy shot him an exasperated look and proceeded to draw a five pound note from her pocket and hand it to Cole, who nodded once more and stepped away.

''Right!'' exclaimed the Doctor. ''Of course. Well, onwards Amy.''

He walked away gawkily, Amy striding to catch up. Cole furtively rushed from the scene. Amy noticed the Doctor was aiming for the stairs.

''Where are you going? The elevators are over there,'' she cried.

''Something isn't right with those lifts,'' said the Doctor in a hushed tone, pausing in his tracks to lean up close to his companion. ''See those red lines of light around them all? The sonic detected something behind them. I need a closer look.''

''When did you use your sonic?'' asked Amy, puzzled by the Doctor's sneakiness.

''When did you notice the dashing man drinking cocktails in the armchair by the door?'' replied the Doctor, enjoying the embarrassment he had caused Amy. He hurried away towards the stairs, Amelia once again rushing to catch up.

''Anyway,'' she said. ''Now what are we going to do? We can't just hide in the Prince of France's hotel room!''

''Oh relax, Pond,'' said the Doctor. ''We'll just find an empty one. I'm sure there'll be one close by.''


	5. A Floor in the Plan

At the top of a particularly lengthy flight of stairs, or so it seemed to her, Amy collapsed onto the landing, panting and frowning at the Doctor who was happily standing in the hallway looking around at the bumbling guests.

Floor seventy-two was, as its name suggested, a long way from the lobby. Nevertheless, the style and sophistication of the hotel entrance had climbed its way up. It was like the foyer had been neatly compacted into a fifth of its size without getting crumpled, and then padded with dark red carpet. Amy felt like she had tripped on her way to a Hollywood film premiere. She stood up and leaned against the wall.

''Ah,'' chirped the Doctor, ''here we go. Room seven-hundred and twenty-four; as empty as this plot of land should be.''

Amy tried to respond but couldn't muster more than a wheeze. The Doctor turned flippantly around to her.

''Told you there'd be one close by,'' he said, and sonicked the door. Amy's scowl could have brought a warrior to his knees, but she didn't have the energy to rebut. Instead, she stumbled into the room after the Doctor.

It may not have been for the Prince of France, but it was fit for a king. Amy headed straight for the large, four-poster bed and let herself fall face first onto the pillows. The Doctor paced around the room, sonicking everything he saw and checking the results.

''It's all fine,'' he whispered, ''everything's fine, normal, but how can it be? What's it all hiding?''

Amy mumbled something indecipherable in response.

''Don't be ridiculous, Pond, my sonic never fails me,'' said the Doctor with pride. Amy rolled over and hoisted herself into a sitting position so she could shoot the Doctor a glare.

''Okay,'' the Doctor started, ''so we've got a storm that doesn't exist that can only be seen from the inside of a hotel that shouldn't exist, which we entered through a door that didn't exist even when the hotel existed,'' he finished without a breath.

''Couldn't have put it better myself,'' said Amy.

''So you know what this means, Amelia Pond?''

''It's time for some snooping?''

''It's time for some-! …Yes.''

''Well,'' said Amy, rolling onto her side and fluffing up her pillow, ''it'll have to wait. I've got some sleeping to do before the snooping begins.''

''We only just got he-'' began the Doctor, but was interrupted by a loud snore.

...

It was night. The storm was still rampant outside but the noise was subdued. Amy had awoken and was standing by the door with the Doctor by her side, pressing their ears against the wall to check that no one was in the hallway. Slowly, the Doctor opened the door with a creak and crossed the threshold.

''Why do we have to be quiet?'' asked Amy. ''Surely there are night time activities or something, for the guests. We can't be the only ones up.''

''That man from the lobby,'' the Doctor replied. ''Cole. I don't think he was hired to carry luggage. If we can, it'll be best to go unnoticed.''

''Ooh, some intrigue. Let the snooping commence,'' Amy said through a wide grin. ''Wait. Why _is_ it quiet? What happened to the storm?''

''Hotels like these put silencers in the walls to make people forget there's an outside world and to make this feel like more of a world in itself. They put fake weather on the windows  
too,'' the Doctor murmured, before his light tone grew darker. ''Amy, this could be dangerous. I don't know what we're going to find or who we're going to run into but I won't hold it against you if you want to stay here.''

There was a moment of absolute silence in which the pair scrutinized each other, before bursting into laughter that carried down the hallway. The Doctor suddenly pressed a finger to each of their lips and signalled Amy to close the door behind her. She began to sneak down along the floor.

''And don't use the lifts!'' the Doctor whispered. Amy waved her hand lazily over her shoulder. The Doctor smiled after her, almost nostalgically. After a moment's hesitation, he started to make his way in the opposite direction to his companion.

Amy took on the guise of a sleuth in making her way around the seventy-second floor, but her success was soon diminished as her shadow was hit with a flash of torchlight.

''Evening miss,'' said the unknown figure pointing the light with a boyish, London accent. Amy threw her arm in front of her eyes like a vampire shielding itself from the sun.

''Apologies, miss,'' he said, lowering the torch. ''I was just doing my patrol.''

''That's okay,'' said Amy, blinking to regain her sight. The man had stepped forward enough for Amy to make him out in the thin sheet of moonlight that was seeping in through the window. He was middle aged; weary, but cheerful.

''I was just on my way to the… um… viewing station,'' Amy went on, hoping the location she had picked was actually real.

''Ah, well, sounds better than walking around these boring old floors,'' the man beamed. ''It's a mystery I tell ya. They hire a night-watch patrolman but never turn on the bloody lights.''

''Ha ha,'' laughed Amy uneasily, ''well… I'll let you get back to your… patrolling, mister um…''

''Simon, miss. Simon Stead.''

''Mister Simon Stead.''

''Good night, miss.''

Simon carried on with his patrol. Unbeknownst to Amelia, his ghostly memory sped up like a video in fast forward, just for a few moments, as he went away up the stairs, like his meeting with Amy had interrupted him so greatly that he needed to get back on track in a heartbeat.

Amy scuttled away in the other direction. An ostentatious lightning display shocked the distant sky and caused Amy to jump and squeal loudly at her own shadow. Covering her mouth and widening her eyes with paranoia, she scampered off around the corner.

Meanwhile, the Doctor knew exactly where he was going. He was heading for the elevators. A splash of moonlight lit up the way and soon he was standing, transfixed, in front of the mysterious hotel centrepieces. His sonic screwdriver at the ready, a flash of excitement in his eyes and a flourish of his wrists and the Doctor was set into motion. He tracked each borderline of unfriendly red light, hiding in plain sight all around the elevator doors, and when he clicked it open to look into the diagnosis his eyes widened like a toddler in a toy store.

''Oh, very clever,'' he whispered to himself. A stifled cry penetrated his ears and with the name of his companion instinctively escaping his lips, the Doctor ran back around the corner of the level. Mere seconds passed before a mop of fiery red hair whipped around the corner from the other end of the hallway, resting on top of a determined, but anxious young woman. Amy was heading for the lifts, though unlike the Doctor she wasn't going to just look around.

''If he didn't want me to use them,'' she mumbled to herself, ''then he shouldn't have told me not to.''  
She gave her thumb a workout pressing the elevator button over and over, trying to catch up with her heartbeat, until a ding sounded overhead and the metal jaws of the unknown threat opened up to greet her.

Almost uncontrollably, the little girl from Leadworth stepped into a possible death-trap, pushed a button on the controls and waited for her fate to arrive. The elevator rumbled into life, groaning as if it had just woken from a deep, metallic slumber.

''Ohhh, what have I done?'' Amy spoke with the air of a child doing something its mother had said not to do. She had turned the key without any real expectation of what would happen. It seemed like a way to gain control of the situation, but Amy was now realising that the hotel is more than just existent when it shouldn't be; it was alive. Not so much in the same way as a life form, but more animated than a simple holiday destination should be.

Amy's worrisome composure turned to all out frantic panic when the elevator began to charge up with what sounded like the force of a jet gearing up for take-off. Amy desperately clicked the door-open button as many times as it took for her to give up, which is a lot for a Pond, but nothing happened.

''Bad noise,'' said Amy, more stating a fact than anything. "Okay. I've heard worse.''

Her attempt at reassuring herself was brought to a sudden halt as the charging elevator failed to reach its peak and dropped several feet. Amy's scream could be heard over the  
steel box grating against its supports. When the lift came to a screeching halt, Amy picked herself up and resumed the conversation with her less-collected self.

''Everything's fine, Amy. The Doctor heard that and he's on his way. Worse things _have_ happen-'' Amy's speech was interposed by another, smaller drop; the consequence of another failed power-up, ''-but aren't happening now so why am I even bothering? DOCTOR!''

Right on cue, the elevator was silenced just as its third attempt at charging began, and its teeth were pulled apart, one floor down from where they opened, by the airwaves of the sonic screwdriver in the hands of an intensely calm Doctor.

''Yes?'' he asked, indifferent to the events that he had rescued his companion from. A reply came in the form of a tackle. Amy lunged at the Doctor and pulled him into a tight embrace.

''I'm sorry,'' she stammered. ''I shouldn't have gone in. I know you-''

''-Told you not to, yes,'' he interjected coolly. ''I counted on you going against an order.''

''Oh, did you now? And since when was I demoted to bait, Sergeant? You could have just as easily gone in yourself.''

''What's an endeavour without a little… _intrigue_?''

Amy looked more furious than the Doctor looked stiff, but their ruses were broken once again by an absconded smile and a runaway snicker.

''Last one,'' said Amy, slipping her words past a smirk.

''We never can keep it straight all the way, can we?'' the Doctor reacted in a similar manner. They shared a laugh.

''Really though,'' remarked Amy with an abrupt change in tone, ''Do that again and I _won't_ be amused.''

''You played your part, too, don't forget,'' rebutted the Doctor.

''What were you doing, anyway? Wandering about while a damsels life was in distress, were you?'' asked Amy facetiously.

''Says the girl who was chatting up security instead of looking for clues,'' said the Doctor snidely. ''I ran into him on the stairs. Poor Simon seemed to be in a bit of a rush. Anyway, I had everything under control, Amy. You know I wouldn't put you in any _real _harm.''

''Not on purpose, at least,'' teased Amy. ''Anyway, I think I've had enough mortal peril for one night.''

''Understandable. We can discuss what I've found out in the morning.''

''What _we've_ found.''

Amy beamed cheekily and trotted off towards the stairs. The Doctor followed.

''I'll never get in one of those things again,'' Amy pronounced resolutely. ''It's stairs all the way from now on. Can't fall if there's no giant empty space to fall through.''

''If you look at it that way,'' said the Doctor, ''you can't fly, either.''

Serenity followed this sentiment all the way back to the hotel room.


	6. A Tense Conversation

The next morning, footsteps crept delicately around the hotel room, squeaking the floorboards; the fading scent of coffee swam around in the air, and a faint green luminosity spilled out from the sonic on the set of drawers resting against the wall. This combination of disturbances gradually touched Amy's senses as she slept and, steadily, she awakened.

Her pupils adjusted to the blurred darkness and she elevated herself to make out the Doctor, crouched on a high chair and carefully inclined over a great pyramid of playing cards.

''What are you doing?'' she asked in the tone of a mother light-heartedly interrogating a toddler. Unaware that Amy was watching him, the Doctor toppled from his perch and collapsed his night's work in the process.

''Oops,'' she said wryly.

''Well, Miss Pond,'' said the Doctor, picking himself up, ''next time you spend five hours building the perfect card pyramid don't expect me to compliment you on your efforts.''

''What _are_ you on about? Have you been up all night?''

''I had to keep watch, I'll have you know. As it turns out I can't trust a Scotsman to keep an eye on the door.''

''Firstly, it's Scots_woman_, and I'll have _you_ know… I was resting my eyes,'' said Amy defensively. ''You took over and didn't wake me up.''

With these last words Amy folded her arms defiantly as the Doctor picked himself up to his feet.

''Speaking of sleep,'' Amy continued, ''don't you ever do that?''

''Do what?'' answered the Doctor, distracted by locating the light switch with his screwdriver.

''Do you ever sleep?''

''I tried it once,'' said the Doctor. ''Woke up in a space suit in the middle of the Milky Way. On a surfboard of course; I wasn't just floating there, that would have been ridiculous!'' the Doctor laughed croakily. Amy simply looked confused.

''How did you manage that just by going to sleep?'' she asked.

''Amy you're not making any sense at all. Have some coffee,'' replied the Doctor. He was signalling towards the steaming cup on the bedside table to the left of his companion.

Though, as Amy noticed when the Doctor finally found the light switch, it was one of many mugs scattered around the room. Amy sighed and reached for the cup, but just before she could grab it she was startled by a blaring alarm clock and jumped out of her skin, spilling the coffee all over the bed sheets. She recovered and picked up the clock, turning the alarm off and checking the time.

''Seven a-m?!'' she belted. ''What were you waking me up at seven in the morning for?''

''We've got a long walk ahead of us,'' the Doctor said nervously. ''I don't want to be late for breakfast.''

He had to duck to avoid the alarm clock flying towards his head.

...

The hotel was half awake. Every now and then a guest would appear, greet them and carry on, but Amy was half asleep and barely paid any attention. Sluggishly walking back down the abundant flights of stairs, the two discussed the previous evening's events.

''You remember those red lights around the elevators?'' asked the Doctor.

''Scary red lights: check,'' answered Amy. ''What are they? Cameras? Sensors?''

''No they're just red lights. They look cool. It's what's behind them.''

They had reached the landing of floor sixty-seven. An old man with a cane and a pipe dawdled past them, on his way up. He grumbled 'hello' from underneath his pipe.

''It's a signal,'' the Doctor went on, 'but it's travelling from below the lobby, all the way up to the top of the hotel. If you look at the lights for long enough… well, if you're me and  
you look at the lights for long enough, you'll see them blink. Just faintly, but enough to see they've got something to hide; something that's probably messing with the wiring of the elevator shafts. That's what causes the flicker and I'm certain that's what caused the elevator to, you know…''

''Try to kill me,'' Amy finished the sentence for him. ''So, if there's something wrong, if the elevators are that dangerous, then why can everybody else use them? What are they, ghosts or something?''

The Doctor halted in his tracks. A thousand thoughts were running along the racecourse inside his head, competing for the finish line; constantly overtaking one another. Tripping. Speeding up. When the champion reached the tip of the Doctor's tongue, he held it and ''Amelia Pond!'' jumped out instead.

''_Don't_ call me Amelia!'' she screamed in return.

''Why not? Brilliant name, Amelia. Amelia Pond,'' the Doctor trailed off and the spark in his eyes faded.

''Now I've gone and said it too many times,'' he said. ''Do you ever get that? Say a word too many times and it just sounds like noise. Amelia. A-me-li-a. A-meee-lia.''

''Doctor!'' Amy shouted, snapping her fingers to regain his attention. ''You just had some kind of epiphany? Honestly I'm surprised you hadn't noticed the hundreds of people missing from the stair case.''

''Oh, I realised Amy, but what you said was more than that. Much, much more.''

He hurried on down the stairs, Amy dashing after him.

''These people are protected, but why?'' contemplated the Doctor, half to himself, half to Amy. ''Hundreds of people, all travelling up and down the elevators but never triggering the reaction you did. Real enough to push buttons, to communicate, but not real enough to be… well, real. Which means, Amelia Pond, brilliant Amelia Pond, that the people inside are only as real as the storm outside!''

''But if the storm didn't affect us then how did we have conversations with the people?'' Amy asked. ''They can't be the same,'' she added to herself.

''Think about it, Amy,'' said the Doctor, growing more excited by the word. ''The storm isn't actually there, but we can see it from inside. We can hear it. It affected us by drowning out our voices. It's real from inside the hotel; it's just not actually there!''

''Oh, that explains it,'' said Amy sarcastically. ''Real, but not there. Of course.''

''Alright, look at it this way,'' said the Doctor. ''The people inside this building don't reside in it. They're all a _part_ of it, and so is the storm. It's all one big happy hotel!''

They had reached the landing of floor sixty-seven. An old man with a cane and a pipe dawdled past them, on his way up. He grumbled 'hello' from underneath his pipe. Amy, still in her sleep deprived state, was only focussing on the Doctor, who was too animated to notice.

''But what does that _mean_, Doctor?'' enquired Amy. ''How can everyone be one thing if you can talk to them individually?''

The Doctor stopped again, spun on the spot and grasped Amy's shoulders.

His face lit up. ''Ghosts!''

He let go of Amy and rushed off once again. This time, Amy simply stood there, perplexed.

''If you ever decide to explain I'll be right here!'' she bawled. The same old man walked past her for the third time, pipe in one hand and cane in the other. This time, she noticed that he looked a tad familiar.

''D-doctor,'' spluttered Amy, ''what's going on?''

The Doctor rushed back up to where Amy was standing and watched again as the man dawdled past them.

''Everything's… repeating,'' Amy said to herself. The Doctor followed the man with his eyes until he was out of sight. He looked just as dumbstruck as his companion.

''Amy,'' he whispered gently, ''that would be another good question.''


	7. Reality Check

Having finally arrived back at the lobby after a few tweaks with the sonic and a desperate swiftness in their steps, the Doctor and Amy threw themselves onto an empty couch. The room hummed with the sound of other early-starters. A waiter had seen their arrival and scooted over to them to offer them a drink.

''Two coffees, please,'' said the Doctor with a certain pride in his educated social request.

''No, no, no,'' Amy butted in, ''no more of that for you mister. He'll have a decaf.''

The waiter bowed his head and walked off to a corner of the lobby where a bulky metal door resided. The Doctor looked browbeaten.

''Alright, Mister Caffeine,'' said Amy, ''slow down and make with the techno-babble.''

The Doctor leaned in close to Amy and began talking in an excited whisper.

''These people,'' he said giddily, ''all of these people in this lobby, behind that counter, in the kitchens and in the rooms, they're all _ghosts_!''

''What _kind_ of ghosts?'' Amy enquired.

''Projections. Living, thinking projections of people who once visited 'The Vaconian'.''

''So they're not real, but they can still react to whatever _is_ real?''

''Precisely. They're echoes. Whatever this place is, whatever it _really_ is, it's filled with electronic ghosts.''

The Doctor beamed at the cleverness of the hotel while Amy deliberated.

''So,'' she eventually said, ''if everything inside is just a… projection, then does that mean the entire hotel is as well?''

''No,'' said the Doctor. ''No, I don't think so. At least, not entirely. I think it's just the people and the storm. Wherever this illusion is coming from it's having a hard enough time keeping those intact. Did you notice when we first came in here-''

''It was like we were passing straight through the crowd.''

''Yes. Like a glitch in programming. This means there must be some kind of foundation that we're on; otherwise we could just fall straight through the hologram at any moment. Someone, or something, has brought the hotel back to life.''

''What happened to it? How was it destroyed?'' asked Amy, dreading the answer.

''A meteor,'' stated the Doctor.

''H-how many people… died?'' Amy asked, wondering if she even wanted to know. The Doctor contemplated Amy for a few seconds but couldn't bring himself to answer her. Luckily, a distraction arrived in the form of two ceramic, colourfully decorated coffee mugs, balanced perfectly on a reflectively clean silver tray resting on the waiter's arm. They were placed on the table between Amy and the Doctor and rippled before them, awaiting their refreshing demise. Amy took a sip but her reaction was not how someone usually responds to drinking a beverage. Instead she looked perplexed by the menial task she had performed.

''It tastes real,'' she said to her mug.

''I would hope so, I've been drinking it all night,'' said the Doctor.

''But we can taste it. If everything's all just an illusion then it's a really damn good one,'' said Amy.

''Implying every little thing is fake as well as the people,'' the Doctor responded. ''Then again how else would they be able to hand us coffee mugs that we can pick up.''

''But if I'm right,'' mused Amy, ''and the coffee mugs are just projections as well, then how _can_ we pick them up? It doesn't make sense either way.''

''Trust me, Pond,'' yearned the Doctor, ''in my world it makes just as much sense for us to be able to touch something that's not real than for something that isn't real to touch something that is.''

With a moment's hesitation, he took a gulp of his decaf and immediately shot up from his chair. Amy sighed and followed after him. She caught up to the Doctor just as he arrived in front of the counter and boyishly bopped the service bell. The lobbyist, Alison, was once again there to greet them.

''Hello, me again,'' said the Doctor before she could begin her pleasantries.

''I'm sorry, have we met?'' Alison asked innocently.

''Prince of France,'' said the Doctor, holding out his hand. He retracted it awkwardly when Alison didn't respond. ''We met yesterday.''

Alison stared blankly at the Doctor, raising her eyebrows. He retrieved his psychic paper and waved it in front of her.

''That says 'Ash Brown; Kitchen Hand','' said Alison bemusedly. The Doctor flipped the paper around in his hand.

''Ah. I should stop, uh, thinking about breakfast. Anyway! I need to get to the maintenance areas of those elevators. Which wa-?''

''Those areas are restricted to guests. That information is for the main-'

''The maintenance man! Of course. Who just so happens,'' he passed the psychic paper to his other hand, behind his back, and held it in front of the clerk once more, '' to be me. Switched jobs last week; getting my cards muddled.''

Alison was doubtful of their legitimacy but nevertheless directed the Doctor to the maintenance door, just along the wall from the door they had originally entered through. Along with Amy, the Doctor turned to head straight there.

''Wait, where's her ID?!'' enquired Alison.

''Oh, um,'' began Amy, but the Doctor triggered the sonic from inside his pocket and the large case of pigeon holes behind the lobby counter shook violently. Several pairs of keys fell to the floor, amidst copious amounts of folders and paperwork. A dozen guests turned their heads and Alison scuffled about trying to figure out what had happened. By the time she had collected herself and gone back to confront the pair, they were already halfway across the lobby. Panic stricken, Alison dived for the phone and swiftly dialled a memorised number.

''It's me,'' she said when the receiver picked up, ''a couple have just gone into the maintenance areas. Keep an eye on them.''

Thirty storeys above her, a closet door stood ajar; darkness leaking from the cracks in the archway. There were no guests on the landing, which was silent but for the creaking of the closet door as it swayed of its own accord.

''As you wish, ma'am,'' came a deep, hoarse from inside the closet. The man who had spoken dropped a mobile phone onto something soft but hefty. The door swung open from the breeze and the hallway light leapt into the closet, discovering the body of a man in a dark grey uniform, lying dead on the floor curled up in an undignified position.

Mysteriously, the very same man treaded out of the small storage room and as a smile crept up one half of his face, he slammed the door shut and walked off towards the elevators.

Back in the lobby, the phone slipped down between Alison's hand and her suddenly sickly pale cheek and crashed onto the counter. Her face was frozen in horror. A single hushed word fell from her lips.

''Anton.''

...

''How does that work? The psychic paper?'' asked Amy. She was skipping in her step to keep up with her lead. ''How come it messed up with the prince thing?''

''It sends a relay to the mind,'' said the Doctor. ''Either the mind of the person you want to fool or the mind of the holder. Normally I just clear my own mind and let it show whatever the viewer needs to see; the authority that overpowers them. Sometimes, though, I need to back up who I say I am, so in those cases all I have to do is think and voila!''

''So you were thinking more about bacon than your disguise?''

''Don't be silly,'' hammered the Doctor. Amy looked inquisitively at him. ''I was thinking about eggs.''

The two shared a smirk, and sonicked their way through the maintenance door.


	8. Substantial Circumstances

The maintenance areas reminded Amy of a sewer. One suaver than usual, but an underground rat's nest nonetheless. They had followed a short, metal tunnel down at least a storey underneath the lobby. The walls were rusted metal, peeling away like dry plaster. The ceiling comprised of steel squares, bolted together to form a grid. Drops of water made their graceful descent from the ceiling to the floor in turn.

This natural routine was mimicked by the technology that had grown from the fingertips of nature itself. Lights flashed, beeps sounded and faulty wires sparked in repetitive unison, dancing across the control panels and the computer monitors as if personality had developed from their coding in the absence of their creators. To the Doctor, everything made sense. To Amy, none of it did, but it didn't have to. It was oddly beautiful to both of them.

The Doctor shimmied around the room, pressing his screwdriver to all of the buttons and knobs and learning almost everything about the room, while Amy took a gander around, simply absorbing the scenery.

''Ah, maintenance rooms,'' exclaimed the Doctor. ''Ironic, isn't it? How they're not very well maintained…''

''Why didn't she remember us?'' asked Amy. ''The clerk. Alison, I think her nametag said.''

''I don't think anyone would have remembered us from yesterday,'' stated the Doctor. ''Everything's brand new.''

'What, like the hotel's been reset?'' Amy asked, half joking. The Doctor, hunched over a jittery screen, regained his posture and shot Amy a smile.

''Remind me to promote you when we leave her,'' he said, and went back to his analytical business, leaving Amy surprised.

''You already knew,'' she said. ''How did you know that?''

''Just after we left the room,'' said the Doctor, ''I peeked back in and everything was back to how it was when we first found it; all the empty mugs gone, bed sheets straightened and curtains open, but I didn't see a maid come in. Did you?''

''Maybe it was a _ghost_ maid,'' joked Amy, ''real enough to clean, but _not actually there_.''

The Doctor grinned.

''So what was all that coffee mug talk about back there then,'' Amy asked, backing up to lean on a control panel, ''if you already knew they weren't real?''

''I wanted to see if you could figure it out for yourself,'' said the Doctor. Amy realised, when leaning on the controls, she had dipped her hand into a thick, slimy black substance which coated her fingers.

''Ew!'' she cried, ''Oh, gross!''

She flailed her arms towards the ground trying to flick the goo off of her, but ended up having to wipe it onto her clothes for her skin to be rid of it. The Doctor hasted over and stuck a finger into the gunk. He held it up in front of his eyes, glowing with amazement; the sludge hung down to the floor, trying to escape from his fingertips.

''Hello!'' said the Doctor. ''What are you, then?''

Amy looked on in revulsion as he touched the tip of his tongue to the slime and studied its taste. He darted around the room to see if there was more and to his delight he found another batch to sample.

''Wow, you really are hungry,'' said Amy drily.

''Now _this_ is real. Real-real, not coffee–real,'' the Doctor stated.

''Now what are you on about?'' exhaled Amy.

''The coffee,'' said the Doctor. ''Each cup tasted the same. Exactly the same, always the same cup over and over. Even the decaf. Like it was the same substance just… pretending. Instead of a freshly made cup each time. Know what I mean?''

''No, but I'll take your word for it.''

''This, though,'' the Doctor continued with a spurt of enthusiasm, ''this is fresher than Starbucks. Tastes better too, though I do like those snazzy cups they-''

''_Any_ time you'd like to explain-'' shouted Amy in a tone that suggested she was all too used to the phrase. The Doctor ran to Amy and stood up close, almost pressing his nose to hers.

''This,'' he began, drizzling the goo between their faces and stinging Amy's nostrils with its pungent smell, ''is different.''

Amy backed off a little, scrunching up her face as the substance penetrated her senses.

''Different to what?'' she asked.

''Different to the other one. The goo I found over there tastes nothing like the goo I found over here.''

While sending his pointed finger whizzing through the air, he lashed Amy's shirt with another splodge of the sticky black matter. She flinched, and her face drooped.

''I don't understand,'' she said, ''how does that make it really real and not just a part of the hotel?''

The Doctor paused, thinking how to explain it.

''Go over to that computer and start typing, just start pressing buttons,'' he eventually said.

''O-okay,'' stuttered Amy, indulging in his request.

''Now,'' he said eagerly, ''Do you feel them? Do you feel the keys?''

''Of course I do, why wouldn't I?'' Amy queried.

''Now close your eyes and more importantly focus on the idea that it's _not what it seems_,'' said the Doctor. Once again, Amy obliged. Though, this time, after focussing deeply on the thought, her senses changed. She could still feel the keys, but they felt different. Colder. Older. She felt a cobweb brush against her hand and strange rust on the keyboard. She opened her eyes and scooted away from it.

''It's different,'' she exhaled, ''It's like there are two things…''

''Competing for the same space,'' the Doctor finished her sentence for her. ''The building is using a technological placebo effect! One strong enough to fool even the sonic.''

''Come again?'' Amy said, perplexed.

''Have you ever taken medicine and felt better almost immediately, even though it hadn't kicked in yet? Just because you know that medicine is meant to cure you? That's what's happening here. You can feel what the buttons are supposed to feel like, taste what the coffee is _supposed_ to taste like just because that's what you see them to be. You can pick up a mug and think you're holding it and even feel it, but it's just another projection, following your hand.''

''So I _was_ right,'' pronounced Amy. ''It's not just the guests and the storm that are fake; it's everything?''

''We were both right,'' said the Doctor. ''All of the people, and the objects inside the building, are just an echo. A hologram, projection, call it what you like. Wherever we are, it's drawing on the memories of the hotel from when it was still here. I don't know how, or why, but that's the only way these people can be here. The building itself though, is more than that. Most of the walls and the floor and the ceiling are all corporeal, otherwise we could just walk straight through any of it.''

''But everything else can be manipulated, or reset?''

''Gold star. It's highly unlikely that whatever's replicating the building has enough material to do the full job. I bet some of the floors and rooms are not completely there. There's enough matter to somehow change into the shape of most of the hotel, including that computer and your bed. Those parts just need a bit of freshening up to _look_ like their hotel counterparts, but parts of the hotel that can't be physically generated need to be faked completely.''

''By holograms and the placenta thingy,'' indicated Amy.

''Placebo effect,'' the Doctor corrected.

''Apples and oranges,'' bantered Amy. ''So it's, what? Sending a signal to our brains? The signal from the elevator!''

''Two gold stars,'' bellowed the Doctor.

''You've known this for a while haven't you,'' asked Amy, suddenly irritable.

''I've been working on it since this morning, yeah,'' said the Doctor tensely. ''The decaf was the clincher.''

Amy scowled at him and folded her arms. The Doctor's expression became anxiously obstinate.

''Sorry,'' he murmured awkwardly. Amy shook her head.

''The question is though: why?'' mumbled the Doctor. Amy turned to look at the goo dripping from the control panel.

''Okay,'' she said, ''so back to my original question, what makes this goo stuff real?'' Just because they taste different? Maybe the coffee tastes the same regardless. Just because it was the best hotel in the world doesn't mean it had the best coffee.''

The Doctor was suddenly staring at the ceiling above Amy with a mix of fear and awe.

''Do you want the long answer or the short answer?'' he said.

''I feel like you want me to say both,'' said Amy.

''Long answer… I can differentiate between a placebo effect and the real thing when I have something to compare,'' said the Doctor, slothfully pacing backwards. Amy peered around at him and her indifference became dread. When the Doctor is scared, Amy knows to become terrified.

''D-doctor? _What's the short answer?_'' she grilled, but noticed something drooling onto her shoulder.

''The short answer?'' said the Doctor. He nudged the wall with the back of his shoe and was forced to halt in his tracks. ''Don't look up.''


	9. Maintaining Composure

''Amy don't move,'' said the Doctor cautiously. He didn't want to provoke the beast dangling from the ceiling above Amy's quivering head.

''What is it?'' Amy whimpered.

''Amy don't move, it's imperative that you stand perfectly still and don't speak any louder.''

''Doctor what is it?''

''I'm not sure.''

''Then how do you know it won't attack me if I don't move.''

''I don't, but it seems to be working.''

Hanging from the ceiling, next to a roof panel that had swung silently off its hinges to reveal an air duct during the Doctor and Amy's discussion, was a creature clinging to the roof like an insect. Some kind of dog prowled around the area above the panic-stricken Amy.

Only it wasn't a dog. Hellhound suited it more. It was upside down but with its feet on the roof as if it were on the floor, poised and ready to lunge at any moment. Its pitch black fur matched its empty, soulless eyes that were transfixed on the prey of the monster's razor sharp, forked tongue protruding rapidly in and out of the curling jaw that caged a set of ravenous, rotten teeth. A tail, matching the creature's tongue, whipped around like it was fighting off an invisible enemy.

Opportunely, in the corner of his eye the Doctor spotted an escape. Deep in the corner of the room, which had now become an enclosure, a door sat quietly, once again blending with the surrounding wall like a chameleon. Circuiting the exit was a thin red line of light, the same that could be found on the elevators.

''Amy, on the count of three I want you to run, as fast as you can, towards that door over in the corner. Can you do that?'' implored the Doctor.

''I think so,'' she answered, growing more anxious by the second, ''I'll try.''

''You'll make it,'' the Doctor reassured her, ''I promise.''

''Okay,'' said Amy, placing her trust in him without hesitation. ''On three then.''

The Doctor had been gradually stepping closer to the light-lined door. The hellhound was now fixing its gaze upon each of them in turn, deciding which one of them was more of a threat.

''One,'' said the Doctor, his pacing getting faster. The creature began to pay more attention to the Doctor than to Amy, who remained obstinately still.

''Two,'' continued the Doctor, prompting another rise of swiftness in his step. The sonic screwdriver, residing in the Doctor's perfectly still left hand, was rising along with the Doctor's arm, aimed unswervingly at the door. He impulsively ignited the power of the sonic and the door flung open like it had been struck by a hurricane. With a flash, the beast above started to bark hellishly and relentlessly and raced across the ceiling, inversely charging towards the Doctor.

''THREE!'' roared the Doctor, and Amy surged forth with the speed of a gazelle. The hound was distracted, and didn't know which of them to prey on. It attempted to pirouette to attack Amy, but staggered and fell over onto the ceiling like gravity had multiple loyalties, before relinquishing its grip and diving to the ground. It landed the right way up on top of a control panel and stabbed its claws into the machine to hold on. Its fur stood on end and its tail climbed towards the roof like something was pulling it up

Amy had already made her way around the maze of machines and had pelted through the open door. The Doctor ran in after her and closed the door just as the beast leapt through the air. It collided with the now sealed exit and was sucked back up to the ceiling like a magnet. It whined and tore back into the hole it had entered through.

Amy sat breathlessly on the floor, slumped against the wall while the Doctor completely sealed the door with his screwdriver. The room they had escaped into was not dissimilar to the last one, albeit instead of computers it was filled with nothing but air. The only defining factor was eight identical doors, two on each wall, all outlined by the unnerving red light.

For a split second, almost impossible to catch with a human eye, the room became distorted. Another glitch.

Before either of them could make their next move, one of the doors shot open and a terrified young man pelted into the room and slammed the door behind him. Amy and the Doctor jumped in shock at this unexpected intrusion. The boy appeared beaten down and fatigued. He seemed no older than seventeen. His hair was a mess and his shirt was ripped in several places. Scuffed shoes and scruffy jeans were dragged along by his limp legs a few feet into the room before he realised he wasn't alone.

''Who are you?'' he erupted.

''Who are _you_?'' enquired the Doctor.

''What _was_ that?'' exuded Amy, seemingly unperturbed by the current events.

''Who's she?!'' cried the newcomer.

''Who's _he_?'' shouted Amy.

''Yes, who are you?'' asked the Doctor.

''What are you doing down her?'' said the stranger.

''Are we just going to keep asking questions or is somebody going to explain what the hell's going on?'' groaned Amelia, stinging the air with an awkward silence, leaving the three of them to look to the other to shatter it.

''I'm the Doctor,'' said he, stretching out his hand.

''Doctor who?'' asked the boy.

''Just the Doctor. Now, who are you?''

''I'm Daniel, Daniel Raine. I'm the janitor. Well, one of them,'' said Daniel, one of the janitors. ''I was just in the storage room getting some equipment when this… this… thing, this dog thing attacked me.''

''So there are more,'' the Doctor thought out loud.

''You… you saw one too?'' asked Daniel. A loud clang sounded above them and vibrated through the ceiling. The three of them jerked their heads upwards, dreading the worst.

''We have to get out of here,'' stated the Doctor.

''How?'' asked Amy, still shaken from the monster attack.

''Look around, Amy!'' spoke the Doctor lustrously. ''There's _plenty of room _for escape.''

He looked expectantly at her but Amy was not amused. The Doctor's smile awkwardly dissipated and he turned back to Daniel.

''Which way out?''

...

To say it was called an air vent, there wasn't much air to go around, thought Amy as she crawled through the dank, constricting tunnel above the maintenance areas, angled so that it climbed upwards. They had blocked off the way behind them with a nifty wave of the sonic screwdriver that manipulated the electronic camouflage of the building. It could still be passed, but would hopefully fool any hellhounds that tried to follow them into thinking it was a dead end.

The claustrophobic escape route was the only way out, according to Daniel, whose knowledge of the area they trusted as they had no other choice. To go back the way they came would be to risk another dangerous encounter, and to pick another of the eight doors would only lead them through a labyrinth.

''I ran as fast as I could,'' Daniel was saying, speaking over his shoulder to his followers, ''and I only just made it into the room where I found you. This way,'' he added and turned into the right tunnel at a junction. They began to follow but were almost immediately directed back the other way.

''Sorry,'' said Daniel, ''I can't say I know my way around here as well. Not really part of my job description to crawl around in the ceiling.''

Amy and the Doctor came to a swift half as the air vent reached an opening. Looking down into the metallic pit of what they quickly realised was the elevator shaft, they fixed their eyes on the roof of a stationary lift.

''Men and directions,'' grumbled Amy, ''Daniel, I think you were right the first time!'' she yelled out of the corner of her mouth.

''No, I think we've ended up exactly where he wanted us,'' said the Doctor to a clenched fist that replied with a prompt smack. He was knocked back into Amy, taking her with him as he fell into the shaft and plunged a few metres, landing on the elevator with a thud and a crunch.

''You put your trust in people too easily!'' cried Daniel, appearing at the edge of the vent along with a couple of the devilish dogs, clasping the roof and the wall respectively. ''I've had enough of you _snooping_ around my home. It's time for you to stop impeding my efforts and begin giving me a hand. It would be such a waste to simply throw you to the dogs.''

''Oh, you are _so_ going down!'' yelled Amy, all of her attitude behind her voice.

''I think you'll find that it's you who will be going up,'' said Daniel nonchalantly. He reached out onto the wall of the shaft and slammed a button. The elevator whirred and geared up. It steadily began to rise.

''You've got yourself and your girlfriend into a fine mess this time, Doctor. Remedy it,'' spat Daniel, retreating with his pets back into the air vent. Amy and the Doctor jumped to their feet and scrutinized the situation, glaring fearfully at their monstrous, empty and impending doom. The elevator became faster.

''Right,'' uttered Amy, distraught. ''You heard the man.''


	10. The Elevator to Nowhere

The elevator shot up like a bullet through the skyward steel cave, knocking them down to the floor once again. Fighting the force of the rise, they themselves rose back to a standing position and grasped each other to keep their balance. Vicious wind whistled past them, grating their cheeks, while the deafening sound of the hurtling elevator dampened their other senses. The transitions from door to wall to door and back again had fizzled into a blur of flashy silver and rusty brown.

''Doctor!'' yelled Amy. ''What do we do?!''

''Just keep calm,'' shouted the Doctor, ''and everything will be fine!''

''When does that ever accomplish anything?!'' screamed Amy furiously.

''One out of ten times!'' roared the Doctor.

''What happened the times it worked?!'' Amy asked desperately.

''I don't know, it's never worked! This is the tenth time I've tried!'' thundered the Doctor.

''So if you've only stayed calm ten times, _what were you doing when you got out of every other mess?!_'' Amy growled.

''You're right,'' said the Doctor. ''Amy start panicking and everything will be okay!''

Sparks flew from the friction between the relentless chunk of hurtling metal and its unflinching tracks. Amy screamed and threw her arms over her head. The Doctor looked every which way and his mind raced the elevator to a way out before it could decide for them. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, muttering to himself; speaking his thoughts out loud.

''Sonic won't work, there's too much power; can't break the cables, they'll be deadlocked on both ends and we're already too high to fall. Come on, come on. Think, think, think. There's always a way out. Always!''

''Doctor,'' Amy moaned, ''I don't wanna die.''

Though her speech was subdued, the Doctor heard every word. There was no longer any need to howl over the noise. Everything around them had disappeared. It was merely their voices in the abyss. Nothing else seemed worth listening to.

''The doors,'' said Amy, her eyes fixated hysterically on the flashes of silver passing by, ''they're moving so fast.''

''Doors…'' said the Doctor, a gleam in his eye and a curl in his jaw. ''Amy, remember when you were little and I told you everything would be okay, even though I was lying just to make you feel better?''

She nodded ever so slightly, too dazed to do much more. The Doctor broke the pause that followed with a smile that brought Amy back to life. ''We're doomed,'' he chirped.

The raucous clashing of iron against steel tumbled back. The Doctor grabbed Amy's hand and the pair dragged themselves to the edge of the lift, facing the wall with the doors. The Doctor beheld the site of the top of the hotel, careening closer and closer from the great distance. He shot his hand into the air; his sonic screwdriver directed raptly onto the wall a couple of hundred feet above them. It vibrated vigorously as it whirred into action and elevator doors were ripped open one after the other, all the way to the top of the chute.

''I know we're moving fast,'' ejaculated the Doctor, ''but we'll make it!''

''Okay!'' screeched Amy.

''On the count of three! One!''

They inched a tad closer to the edge.

''Two!''

Bending their knees, they braced themselves.

''This is our stop! Three!''

Hand in hand, they launched themselves forward with all the force they could muster. The timing was, with an abundance of luck, perfect. Guests on floor one-hundred and ninety-five watched on in awe as a young man and woman launched out of the bizarrely open elevator doors, followed by a surge of blue light. The momentum that had carried them up the elevator shaft continued to be in effect and they hovered in the air for half a second, like a rollercoaster going over a hill.

Their stomachs clenched as they reached the peak of their flight. Gravity took its turn and pulled them out of suspension. As they fell back towards the floor, they stretched their arms out instinctively and felt them collide with a part of the floor that was still attached to reality while the rest of them fell through the ground. Managing to hold on to the small platform, the resulting sight was two pairs of clumsy legs swinging about from the ceiling of floor one-hundred and ninety-five, and two torsos seemingly climbing out of the floor of level one-hundred and ninety-six.

They pulled themselves upwards and stood, backed up against the wall on the few feet of floor that was available to them, looking down onto the flickering landing. Visitors that were scuttling about on each floor were utterly gobsmacked. They looked at each other with astonishment, but moments later they were back where they all had been positioned seconds prior to the impossible event and carried on scampering along the hallways, unaffected by the absent floor below them.

''If this day gets any weirder,'' said Amy, her eyes speaking louder than her voice, ''I think my head's going to explode.''

''Don't say that, think of the mess you'll leave for the janitors!'' joked the Doctor.

''In case you didn't notice, the janitors around here don't seem too friendly.'' said Amy.

''Well, at least there's something to learn from this place,'' said the Doctor. ''Nothing is ever how it appears.''

''Well, it _appears_ we need to find a way out of the current weird,'' said Amy, looking down at the floor. ''How are we supposed to know which part of the floor to stand on?''

''We cheat,'' said the Doctor, flicking up his sonicking device. He waved it around the floor, pressing the button firmly. The humming grew louder and peaked, but nothing happened.

''Oh, what is wrong with you today?'' said the Doctor to his pet.

''Wait,'' said Amy, suddenly struck with an idea. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

''It's not what it seems,'' she whispered to herself, absorbing the thought with all the mental strength she could collect. Amy opened her eyes again to discover that most of the level and all of the guests had almost vanished, hovering around like a film that was halfway through transitioning to another scene. The upper and lower floors were still intact illusions of a holiday villa, but what Amy could see when she focussed on the hidden layer of floor one-hundred and ninety-six took a while for her to comprehend.

All around her was a grid of metal beams and platforms that vaguely resembled the layout of the floor of the hotel. Most of the walls were missing, and masses of a marginally liquid metal substance forming several bed-like shapes were dispersed around the floor. Amy could see the reality of the construction yard-like building, concealing itself as 'The Vaconian', although it appeared they had reached a height where it wasn't able to fully construct the environment. It was running out of stock, whatever that stock was.

''Doctor, are you seeing this?'' asked Amy, enshrouded in baffled astonishment. The Doctor emerged from a tranquil state just as Amy had done moments prior, and saw the level through the eyes of his companion. He observed with piercing examination, trying to work out what the structure could be.

Amy brusquely collapsed down onto her knees and both of their visions, of a sort, were suddenly interrupted. Amelia clutched her head in agony but quickly recovered. The Doctor knelt down beside her and placed his palm lightly on her shoulder.

''Amy,'' he said fearfully, ''are you okay?''

''I'm fine,'' she said, staggering back to her feet.

''It must be the signal,'' said the Doctor. ''We can't fight it like that for too long or it could be damaging our brains.''

They started towards the stairs, following a path they had uncovered when they tricked the placebo effect , but before they could make it, their view ahead was obscured by total blackness. It had happened quicker than the power simply going out. The transition from quiet morning to silent night was instantaneous. It seemed the floor had been deserted as well as darkened.

Amy and the Doctor paused anxiously, bracing for something else to happen.

''Doc-tor,'' said Amy, raising her voice with each syllable. ''It's getting weird again…''

''Sshh,'' the Doctor whispered, tapping a finger to his lips. In the hush, a light whooshing sound could be heard creeping towards them. Growing louder with each second and getting heavier and softer in between, eventually the sound was unmistakeable. It was the sound of breathing.

They were not alone.


	11. The Liar, the Snitch and the Cupboard

A subtle glimmering smothered the room, edging its way from the window and stealing across the floor like an assassin sneaking up on its target. The faint light crept up behind the corridor's only visible occupants and slid around them, suffocating the walls while the footsteps grew nearer.

The clouds in the night sky shifted a touch more and the glimmer of the full moon passed through the furious rain and managed to reach to the end of the hallway. The Doctor and

Amy surveyed the scene in wonderment as a dark figure rounded the corner. A tall, ominous being emerged from the shadows, dressed in a shady cloak that hid its face except for two eerie red dots peering out from underneath a menacingly tall hood. Its steps were a dance of delicate motion that created the illusion of a floating garment.

It reached one of the elevators just as its doors opened and a familiar face tore out of the lift like he was trying to get away from something. The moonlight struck the face of a defeated, demoralized and desperate young man. Cole realised he had run straight into the path of his apparent chaser and tripped on his own shocked feet. Before he could crawl away, the gliding cloak was upon him.

Neither the curious creature nor the beaten bellboy appeared to be effected by the presence of two bystanders intruding on the confrontation. Amy figured that they were as good as invisible; another glitch or anomaly of the hotel. The Doctor didn't figure, but knew. A ghastly, raspy voice slithered out from under the black hood. Amy shuddered at the sound of it while the Doctor watched on eagerly.

''My lord,'' said Cole, ''you are in your true form. Why?''

''I cannot stand being a body of flesh for any longer than I must, but to stray from the point of our meeting would be to carelessly dispose of seconds,'' said the cloaked figure.

''You have seen too much. A situation that would not have been worthy of my time had you stayed the course. I informed you that to betray my trust would be a betrayal of the life you have left in you.''

''Please,'' sobbed Cole, his voice higher and weaker than whatever version of him the Doctor and Amy had encountered, ''I beg of you. Spare me. I didn't mean to, I just wanted her to be safe.''

''The whispers you secreted from your heinous lips weren't carried far before the mouths that could expel them were sewn shut by the Reaper's touch,'' hissed the figure with the scent of self-importance on his breath.

''Y-you k-killed the Steads?'' stuttered Cole. He slanted his eyes almost up into his skull to glance at the figure from his knees, but immediately regretted the decision once the devil's eyes connected with his own. He bowed his head further towards the ground.

''I am afraid your time has come,'' said the Reaper. ''Though I cannot deny you have been useful. The energy you have acquired has been sufficient, but the ship is not yet fully stabilised.''

''So spare me, my lord. Let me help you finish!''

''Your betrayal requires punishment, yet I admit I cannot continue this job alone. Even with the raxillion. Do not fear, I am not going to harm you.''

This time, Cole looked directly to the Reaper and was not afraid. Instead, he was embraced by hope.

''You-you're not going to hurt me?'' he beseeched.

''I am not going to _harm_ you. Your physical self will not be affected in the absorption. I cannot promise that it will not hurt.

''No,'' pleaded Cole, ''please, you said you would never!''

''The influence of truth,'' the Reaper hissed, ''is no match for the persuasion of lies.''

The creature stretched out a robe-coated arm. From the hem emerged, not a hand, but a wisp of smoke that reached out like smoke from a cigarette. Cole scrambled to his feet and attempted to run away but the smoke shot after him and promptly caught up, wrapping itself around his legs and tripping him.

Amy and the Doctor watched on in horror as Cole was bounded by silky grey ropes and held up in mid-air. His skin turned pale and shone with a deathly white glow that travelled from his body, amidst the murky grey echo of an arm and into the thick black cloak, disappearing into the dark abyss like an animal retreating to its den.

The miraculous but unearthly sight came to a hasty stop and the soulless body of Cole dropped to the floor like a rock. The monstrous smoke recoiled back into its nest. Like a firework exploding in the sky, the enigmatic being in the mantle warped into a fiery star. When the sparks disappeared, what was left was a perfect clone of the corpse on the floor.

The creature had taken the life force of Cole.

The replica hoisted the original onto its shoulders and hurtled him into a nearby storage closet. The scene dispersed, the moon vanished, the guests reappeared and the lights came back on. The Doctor and Amy were left standing there, staring blankly at the cupboard.

''What was that?'' asked Amy, stupefied.

''A recording,'' said the Doctor, slowly regaining his composure. ''of something that happened while the hotel was still standing. Played back to us like the hotel has a DVD feature.''

''How did you come to that conclusion?'' asked Amy, puzzled.

''Process of elimination,'' said the Doctor. ''They weren't ghosts because they didn't see us, but they can't be real like us either, otherwise Cole would have fallen straight through the floor. Whatever that thing was must have survived the meteor.''

''How do you know he got away?''

''You heard his voice, you tell me.''

Amy was confused and it showed on her face, but she quickly realised what the Doctor meant.

''The Cole we met in the lobby!'' she exclaimed proudly. ''He's a copy of... himself?''

''So it would seem,'' said the Doctor.

''What about Daniel and those dogs?'' Amy enquired.

''What about them?'' wondered the Doctor.

''Well they must have been here before the meteor too,'' Amy theorised. ''Unless they just wandered in off the field one day and started playing house with a supernatural smoke machine.''

''Doesn't seem too likely, does it?'' said the Doctor. ''Then again, 'likely' doesn't really apply to anything around here. Now, he mentioned the Steads were killed, but Simon-''

''Simon Stead. He's still alive!'' interrupted Amy. ''Well, kind of. So-''

''So what we just saw happened after today,'' said the Doctor. ''I mean, the day that's being projected around us right now. I think it _is_ only one day.''

''It's only using one day of the hotel's memory?'' asked Amy.

''Exactly,'' said the Doctor. ''It would explain why everything was reset this morning. The memory ran out.''

''So if it's only repeating one day,'' said Amy, '_which_ day is it?''

''By the looks of things outside, not long before doomsday.''


	12. Dimensional Deductions

''Why though?'' said the Doctor, racking his brain for an answer. ''Something is here, cloaking itself as a hotel just before its destruction. Something disguised as something much bigger, with faulty, sense-altering mechanics, a bullet train elevator, a shape-shifter and vicious alien dogs, but why? What does it all mean?''

They were back in the hotel room. It was late in the afternoon. The Doctor was pacing frantically around the place while Amy was resting on the bed, closing her eyes and concentrating so she could feel the bed for what it really was: the sort of liquid metal she saw on the upper floor. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

''This is _weird_,'' she said, dragging out the last word. ''Nothing about this place makes sense.''

''It makes sense, it just doesn't seem to have a purpose,'' said the Doctor. ''Not yet anyway. Not until we find out.''

''So how do we find out?'' asked Amy casually. The Doctor stopped pacing and turned to Amy.

''We ask.''

...

Alison was no longer at the service desk. A replacement was doing her duties, answering calls and dealing with guest enquiries. The young blonde administrator was instead several stories above the lobby, impatiently dialling a number on a cell phone over and over again and looking around, listening out for a response above the crowd. She was looking for Anton. On what must have been the fiftieth call, Alison heard a ringing tone coming from a cupboard nearby. Her eagerness to find him turned to reluctance to open the door, knowing that what she would find inside would probably not be what she hoped for.

She cancelled the call and started making her way, inch by inch, through the teeming hallway and over to the cupboard. Hesitantly, she grabbed the handle and sluggishly opened the door. Upon seeing the horrible sight inside – the crumpled body of a man in a grey suit - she let out a whimper and slammed the door shut. A few tears slid down her face.  
Several guests noticed but did not stop to ask what was wrong. All but two of the people in the hallway walked over to Alison to find out what ailed her. Amy and the Doctor had just entered the floor from the staircase and had heard the door bang shut.

''Are you okay?'' asked Amy tentatively. The service desk attendant burst into tears and threw her arms around Amy's neck. Amy did not hesitate to comfort her while the Doctor watched curiously before shifting his eyes to the cupboard door.

He walked around the embracing women and cautiously opened it. When he saw the limp body he leaned down to check the nametag: Anton Stead. He softly closed the door again, bowed his head and closed his eyes in lament. Within seconds, though, his eyelids shot open in fearful realisation.

''It happens tonight,'' he muttered under his breath.

...

Amy and the Doctor had taken Alison to their hotel room. Once again, the Doctor was pacing up and down at the foot of the bed, but this time it was Alison laying on it. She was sitting on the edge, shaking; every now and then drinking from a mug of coffee, or at least thinking she was. Amy was leaning against the door watching the Doctor wander about in front of her. He stopped striding up and down and shimmied over to where Amy was standing.

''How do you know it's tonight?'' asked Amy, sceptical of the Doctor's assumption.

''I don't, I have a hunch,'' said the Doctor, ''but I seem to be good at hunches.''

''Alright then, Notre Dame,'' mocked Amy, ''spill the magic beans.''

''Are you trying to set a record for how many things you can reference in one sentence?'' the Doctor asked peculiarly. Amy shifted her eyes awkwardly.

''… Maybe,'' she said. The Doctor rolled his own eyes and went back to his train of thought.

''The recording that played for us,'' he said. ''I think that happened on the same day as the one we're trapped in. The Reaper doesn't like wasting time and he's already killed

Anton. And unless this place is run by an entire empire of Stead offspring, that just leaves his brother Simon.''

''The Reaper?'' said Amy, snickering. ''You're actually going to go along with his name? The one he called himself in third-person, no less.''

''Well I'm not going to keep calling him the thing in the cloak, and the Smokey Bandit doesn't seem threatening enough,'' jested the Doctor. Amy chortled.

''But we saw Simon last night,'' she said. ''Well, tonight. Well, both, but whatever. Point is, Doctor, if he was alive at night, and he dies the same night, then that means he would have been killed _very_ shortly after we met him. Unless the Simon we saw was already dead; just a copy!''

''No, his voice was his own,'' said the Doctor, ''if he was taken over by the Reaper he would have had a much deeper voice.''

Amy looked disappointed at the debunking of her theory.

''I think you're right about us seeing the last moments of Simon, though. Mainly because it would prove _my_ theory,'' the Doctor added pompously.

''Of course,'' sighed Amy. ''Well anyway, how are we going to-''

''Raxillion,'' interposed the Doctor.

''Bless you,'' said Amy sarcastically.

''In the recording,'' the Doctor continued, ''he mentioned that he had Raxillion. I remember now; they're the dogs. I should have realised before. That's what those hellhounds are. They're called the Raxillion.''

''So, they're called Raxillion,'' said Amy apathetically, ''what of it?''

''It's _of_ importance,'' the Doctor retorted. ''It tells us more about the Reaper.''

''Alright, so what's the deal with these Raxi-…thingies?'' she inquired.

''The Raxillion come from a planet in another dimension. A dimension I ended up in once when the TARDIS flew off course. I heard stories of a nameless planet; one of the few in the known universes,'' explained the Doctor.

''Why?'' asked Amy. ''Why wasn't it named?''

''Because it died,'' stated the Doctor. ''Consumed by a supernova not long after it was discovered, hundreds of years in the future. It's just referred to as Delta-five-hundred; the code number of the salvage mission of the crew who found it. They managed to transmit one final message before they got caught in the supernova themselves, warning the other salvage teams about a cargo ship that blasted away from the planet just before the supernova hit, almost like it knew it was coming. The interstellar police found it and arrested it.''

''Arrested? An entire ship?'' said Amy, smiling.

''Well, I say arrested. Their definition was attack-the-ship-and-capture-anything-on-board.' They found hundreds of the dogs, which they eventually took for themselves and named the Raxillion, but no pilot. Their first mistake was completely abandoning their police-craft so they could all join in on the assault. They had to embarrassingly report back to the station that the pilot escaped with some of the hounds and commandeered their own vehicle. All while they watched through the hole they made in the cargo ship!''

Amy's smile widened, and the Doctor grinned with her. Uncontrollably, they both snorted with laughter but silenced themselves when they noticed Alison watching them, puzzled by their cheeriness. They huddled closer so the Doctor could finish his story.

''Anyway,'' he went on, ''the police-craft, under new management, escaped into a black hole and nobody has heard from it since.''

''So you think it came here?'' Amy assumed. ''You think this is a space ship?''

''It came here, yes, but a police ship isn't this big. There's something else going on for there to be a building this size here, and tonight we're going to find out why.''

''How are we going to do that?''

''Well we know where the Reaper, or at least the phony memory of him, is going to be tonight. The same place he was when that recording played for us for whatever reaso-''

The Doctor cut himself off when he remembered that Alison was in the room, inaudibly crying. A strange thought occurred to him. He sat down next to her and spoke to her tenderly.

''How did you know Anton,'' he asked. ''Was he a friend?''

''H-he was m-my b-brother,'' Alison sobbed. The Doctor hopped to his feet in distress and walked back to the door, placing his arm against it and setting his forehead on top. Amy looked bewildered and sped back over to Alison to console her again. She wrapped an arm around her shoulder and then shot a frown at the Doctor. He turned his back to the door, looked Amy in the eyes and spoke one word: 'Stead.'


	13. Steady As She Goes

The curtain of the night was drawing closer. Time was running out for the Doctor to gain a meeting with the Reaper, of whom two versions wandered the hallways. The tangible version of the being was amidst the copious amount of guests, using the visage of the deceased bellboy Cole, while the memory of the creature's raw form was on the hunt for the manufactured ghosts of Alison and Simon Stead; the past re-enacted in the present.

The Doctor was pondering his options. Either he went out to find the memory of the Reaper with no place to start looking, or he let the ghost of Alison be killed in order to make sure the hotel's memories were played out properly, so he could know where the Reaper would be. For the Doctor had found a problem in his original plan. They had interfered with the ship's simulation by saving Alison. The Doctor had realised that as long as Alison was in the room, the Reaper might not find her, and events might not play out as they did when the recording mysteriously played for them on the upper level of the hotel. To ensure this memory played again, he would have to let a good woman die for what could be the hundredth time, but could also be the last.

''We can't,'' said the Doctor to Amy. They were huddled in the corner of the room while Alison was freshening up in the bathroom. ''We can't let him find her, she still has memories and thoughts and hopes and dreams, she's still real and it's as good as killing her.''

''We could find the real Reaper,'' Amy suggested. ''The one that took the form of Cole. All we'd have to do is get someone to summon the bellboy.''

''No, it's too dangerous,'' said the Doctor. ''The memory can't affect us. We can interrogate it without being harmed.''

They had already figured that the version of Cole they had encountered in the lobby upon their arrival was an actual being like them. They knew he wasn't merely reset each morning because if he was, his voice would be younger, higher pitched and more innocent, signalling that the night of his death was yet to come. But his voice was hoarse and deep like the Reaper's, and so that time had already passed.

All day, and all of the last day, there had been a ghostly form of Cole running around the hotel scared, trying to escape the clutches of his master. Over and over again this scenario played out, day by day for however long the recreated 'Vaconian' had been around. Each day, Anton, Simon and Alison had been killed. Every day for what could have been weeks, before the Doctor and Amy found Alison distraught in the hallway of the thirtieth floor. Alison came back into the main area of the room and the Doctor and Amy's conversation fizzled out.

''He tried to warn us,'' she said, clearly forcing herself to explain the events surrounding her brother's death. Amy and the Doctor listened intently. ''Cole, h-he's been working here longer than I have and he's always seemed nice, but lately he's changed. Any new guests that come here, well, I never see them after he takes them to their rooms in the elevator. They never come to any meals down here; never order room service. Nothing. But then Cole started panicking about something.''

''When did he come to tip you off?'' asked the Doctor.

''Yesterday,'' answered Alison. ''He'd been finding excuses to be around me for the last few weeks. Like he was following me. Then yesterday he came over and told me that he wanted to get away; that someone was making him trap the new guests and, then they vanished. He just wanted to get away and he wanted me to come with him. Then something disturbed him, and he left and said he'd come back for me.''

''Where did he go?'' the Doctor probed.

''I don't know. I told my brothers he was acting strange and to keep an eye out for him, and told them what he'd said about the people going missing and now Anton's dead and I don't know where Simon is and he doesn't have a phone and I just want to find him and-''

She broke down and a barrage of tears crawled out of her eyes.

''Ssshhh, it's okay'' said Amy, embracing her as best as she could with the knowledge that she couldn't entirely touch her.

''We know where Simon will be,'' muttered the Doctor, more to himself than anything. ''He's coming to this floor in a few minutes.''

''H-how do you know that?'' stammered Alison.

''Oh,'' came the Doctor's reply, ''it's just something I remembered from yesterday.''

...

'Don't move. Stay here.' These were the last words that Alison Stead heard before she was left alone in a solitary hotel room with nothing to dwell on but her dead brother. Her instructions to stay put were given so she would be kept out of danger, but that was not what the hotel had in mind. Alison sat on the floor against the side of the bed, waving her frazzled hair between her quivering fingers. The Doctor and Amy hovered just outside, waiting for the right time to act.

''Now remember,'' said the Doctor matter-of-factly, ''we follow Simon until he encounters the Reaper but _do not_ let him see or hear you. We can't interfere with the hotel memory any further. We'll be lucky if the Reaper still goes after him now that we've taken Alison out of the picture. Once they meet, take Simon and hide and then I'll do the talking.''

Their plan in motion, Alison listened to the footsteps growing fainter as the Doctor and Amy headed down the hallway and around the corner. Her hands began to shake a touch extra; her arms joined in. Soon, Alison's entire body was vibrating like railroad tracks as a train careened across them. Except it wasn't Alison. It was the room.

The door swung open like an invisible force had charged into it and Alison was lifted to her feet and sucked out of it. A violent scream reverberated from the walls. She desperately, but hopelessly extended her arms to try to catch anything that could stop her, but was dragged out of the room and down the hallway like a ghoul floating, _charging_ backwards. The Doctor and Amy watched in horrified surprise as Alison whizzed past them and literally faded out of sight, along with her waning shriek.

...

Materialising in the lobby, thrown forwards and landing flat on her palms over her neat and organised counter, the traumatized Alison immediately switched back to her normal self. Though still obviously in despair at Anton's demise, and worried about the location of Simon and intrigued over the whereabouts of the elusive Cole, she carried on pouring over sheets on the desk as if she had never stopped. She had been retuned into the correct simulation of the hotel's memory, forgetting all about her meeting with the Doctor and Amy.

It was as if they had never found her crying in the hallway.

There was nothing she could do about her troubles. The emergency phone lines were dead and the storm was too manic to get a mobile phone signal to the outside world. She couldn't brave the storm on her own either. Her worry was too great to seek a way out anyway; not without Simon would she leave the hotel, but it would be impossible to find him in among the masses of hallways, staircases and rooms. She had nothing to do but let time take over.

Unexpectedly, the lights died out and the lobby was plunged into gloom. Alison looked up into the void. All of the doors were locked and the staircases were sealed off. No sound emitted from any inch of the place bar a faint tapping on the marble floor. Footsteps. Alison listened, trembling, until a light above the counter flickered back on and a man stood calmly in front of her. Short, black hair; an official looking uniform; a handsome, charming visage. It was the man from the cupboard on the thirtieth floor. The man Alison had been looking for but found dead in a heap.

''A-Anton?'' whispered Alison.

''Hello, little sister,'' came Anton's reply, notes of sarcasm detectable in his hoarse, dry voice. Undeniably the voice of the Reaper.

''B-but… you're d-dead. I saw you-''

''No, no, no. I'm afraid your brother is dead. I am very much alive.''

Alison straightened up with a newfound valour.

''Then it's you,'' she boomed. ''You're the one Cole tried to warn me about. He was telling the truth. You're _killing people_.''

''This personality of your brother's,'' continued Anton as if Alison had never spoken. ''I have to say, it's not as assertive as I am used to. Maybe it needs a woman's touch.''

He slowly made to reach out and grab Alison but she backed away and he retracted his arm, growing angry.

''You'll never lay your hands on m-'' Alison was stopped by a smoky whip lashing around her throat. Anton's skin was convulsing and, like his arm had transformed moments prior, his entire body disintegrated into the gaseous form of the Reaper. Before a discernible shape could be moulded, a black cloak was fashioned from the smoke itself and covered the entire creature but for its evil red eyes and the foggy chain wrapping itself around Alison's throat.

''Appendages are atrocities that I have to endure to keep up this charade,'' rumbled a voice from underneath the hood. ''My few moments of freedom in my true form are all I have to thrive on between bodies; between wretched _personalities_ that I have to deal with while I carry out the orders that the weakling Cole failed to perform.''

Alison shot up a few feet in the air and glowed with the same blinding light that had once warped the real Cole. Upon completion of the life force transfer, she crumpled onto the desk and ricocheted onto the hard floor.

''Two down,'' said the deep, harsh voice of the new Alison, grinning at her own deceased corpse.


	14. An Unexpected Arrival

Simon Stead hopped onto the landing of floor seventy-two, navigating his way through the vaguely lit hallways on his night-time watch, completely unaware of neither his impending fate nor the fate of his siblings. The Doctor and Amy were just around the corner, waiting, all the while troubled by the disappearance of Alison.

''We changed too much,'' stated the Doctor. ''We can't change the day too much or for too long or it'll force itself to get back on track.''

''So Alison's… dead?'' asked Amy timidly.

''Amy,'' said the Doctor calmingly, ''she already was. Whatever happened to her has already happened. There was never anything we could do for her except try to get whatever's going on to stop.''

Amy nodded yieldingly. The Doctor saw she was still distressed. ''Come on,'' he said perkily, ''where's the Amy that stole the keys from-''

''From a man who died minutes later,'' Amy interjected with poignant distress

''Well now's your chance to save his memory. For one night and maybe forever,'' said the Doctor, who's seriousness straightaway switched to cheeriness. ''Hats on Amelia Pond, we've got snooping to do!''

Amy seemed to have been cheered up.

''Neither of us have hats,'' she laughed. ''We left all our snooping equipment in the TARDIS, remember?''

''Rule of the universe number eighty-four, you are never more than twelve feet from a hat,'' chirped the Doctor.

''Oh, you just made that up,'' said Amy dubiously. The Doctor opened a nearby storage closet, pulled out his sonic screwdriver and waved it around inside.

''Aha!'' he cried when the sonic whirred louder. He pulled out two dusty old hats: a baseball cap and a wintery style woollen one with large dangly earmuffs. He put the baseball hat on his own head and held the other one out for Amy, who looked at it in dismay.

''No way am I wearing that, thank you very much,'' she said snootily.

''Oh, why not?! It's got earflaps! Earflaps are cool,'' said the Doctor, downtrodden.

''Well if they're so cool, you wear it,'' snorted Amy.

''With pleasure,'' said the Doctor complacently. They switched, and the Doctor revelled in his new, cool earmuff hat while Amy shook her head, placing the baseball cap over her

bright red hair. Without warning, feet shuffled along the carpet from the shadows and Amy saw no choice but to grab the Doctor and pull him into the tiny closet.

They uncomfortably squeezed together into the confined space and pulled the door to while Simon passed by. They couldn't risk interfering this time. The Doctor was completely  
frozen and Amy was staring, transfixed, at the back of the door. The awkwardness of the tight situation pulled both of their eyelids wide open. Amy cleared her throat.

''Um, while we're here,'' she said. ''Any theories on why we saw that scene with the Reaper guy in the middle of the afternoon? It just played for us, like someone wanted us to see it.''

''At a guess,'' said the Doctor slowly. ''I think we're being led along.''

The scuffling echoed away and they shot out of the cupboard, fixing themselves up in the process and striding away inelegantly after Simon. They crept around the corner and saw him continue rising through the building up the stairs. They tailed him up to the next floor and peeked above the tip of the stairs.

Amy stole onto the landing, careful not to alert Simon to her presence too soon. The Doctor took Amy's lead. What they found when they followed Simon to the elevators was as far from expected as could be. The night-watchman didn't run into the Reaper, but into Daniel Raine, the janitor from the maintenance areas.

He wasn't the same man as they had encountered along with the Raxillion. He was afraid. As afraid as Cole was just before he reached his expiry date. Daniel had just exited one of the elevators. Upon seeing Simon, he sighed with relief and backed up against the now closed elevator doors.

''Jesus, Simon, you scared me,'' he said. ''What the hell are you doing up here?''

''I'm the night-watchman,'' said Simon condescendingly. ''What do you think I'm doing? It's night. I'm watching. What are you running from?''

''Never you mind. I'll attend to my business and you attend to your … looking at things. Alright?''

''I'm afraid that's not alright. Not at all.''

''What the hell are you on about now, Simon?''

''What are you running from,'' Simon's voice switched from cheerful Londoner to aged and chilling and deep, ''_Daniel_?''

Daniel's eyes widened in dismay at the realisation that Simon was not as he seemed.

''No-,'' he half exhaled and sunk down to the floor, clasping his knees and cowering before the not-so-Simon.

''What, you thought only my self-deluded brother was after you?'' said the mystery man, back to the normal, human voice of the man whose body he was using. ''Well, while he's scurrying about making a big show of things in his cloak, I'm getting things done. Unfortunately, you're next on my to-do list. Unfortunately for you, that is.''

''Please, just let me-AAAHH-'' Daniel managed to let out half a scream before he was strangled by the misty whiplash of Simon's vanished arm and shone like wildfire as his remaining years were sucked away. Simon trembled pugnaciously and soon the new Daniel was looking down on his old, dead self.

''Check,'' he said, his hands miming the writing of a tick on a notepad. The elevator door chimed again and hummed as the doors slid open. Onto the landing stepped Alison, the dregs of her last, scared moments still on her face, slowly ebbing away as the Reaper fought against the personality of his new body.

''Brother!'' cried the newly formed Daniel, his voice still Daniel-like and his youthful composure intact. ''Or at least, I'm assuming from that expression.''

''You shouldn't have done that,'' said the Alison copy with the macabre voice of the Reaper.

''Ooh, and _you_ shouldn't be talking like that in that body,'' rebutted the replica of Daniel. ''Nuh-uh. Learn to embrace your new figure! Absorb the personality, expel the voice! Take on the charm that comes gift wrapped with these marvellous creatures!''

''They are scum. They serve only one purpose for us,'' murmured the Alison-Reaper.

''Yeah, yeah, energy and all that. I _have_ been helping you, you know. I got this outfit just then, you saw,'' said Daniel, stroking his own chest. ''Last one in stock, you know. Ooh, this one's witty. I like him. Oh, and I took out the last of the Steads for you just a few minutes ago, as you can see by my new suit.''

''You were supposed to keep hidden while I sorted things out,'' said the Reaper angrily.

''I know, brother, and I have been. I've only revealed myself to prey. But I couldn't resist having a couple of makeovers, you know? You needed to get rid of this guy anyway,'' he kicked the body lying on the floor between them. ''He was just a pain, wasn't he? Started off useful but-''

''Get back to the ship. Immediately. If I find you exhausting your ability to remain unflinching in your position you will gain a first hand-''

''-meeting with the Reaper's touch, yeah, yeah. I can do it too you know. That little wavy arm trick. Get off your high horse, nobody else has nicknames, Naros.''

''Go, Soran.''

''Alright, alright. Going. But hurry up will you? I only swapped out for that Toby fellow 'because I was getting bored of putting on a night watch charade. Honestly, there's nothing to do around here even if you're staff. If you're not gonna let me have any fun around here at least get a move on getting us out of this place. That idiot Cole, the one that got all the Steads starting to think something was up, have you taken care of him yet?''

''Do not leave the lower deck again while I deal with the traitor,'' said the Reaper, Naros, to his brother Soran, ignoring the latter's side of the conversation. Soran stormed off back to the elevator and nudged the button. Alison's stolen body writhed and squirmed as the smoke took over and the cloak was formed. The Reaper headed on up the stairs and

Soran dragged his lifeless twin into the elevator with him. The doors slid shut.

Amy was speechless. The Doctor's mind was electrified with sparks of thought. Their silence didn't last long, however. A deep, familiar voice startled them from the shadows.

''Do you see now?'' came the sound of the corporeal, present-day Reaper.


	15. Seeing Isn't Believing

The Doctor and Amy spun around to face the murderer. The Doctor's hand was in his pocket and a faint humming noise buzzed almost indistinguishably.

''I'm sorry,'' said the Doctor with no hint of politeness in his voice, ''I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm the Doctor. You may have heard of me, I'm the thing you should be worried about.''

''My brother did mention a _boy_ fooling around downstairs who gave himself that title,'' said Naros, spewing out his words from the shell of Cole. ''I had a feeling it would turn out to be you. A curious title for a man who does not appear to have a medical background.''

''Yes, well, I think it's time for you to earn your death certificate,'' snapped the Doctor. The two men glared at each other, unblinking; unflinching. Amy rolled her eyes.

''Alright boys, enough of the one liners,'' she said impatiently. ''Speed it up.''

''If you wish to hasten your mortality then I will of course adhere to your request,'' said Naros monotonously.

''Who are you?'' asked the Doctor.

''_What_ are you?'' asked Amy, scrunching up her face.

''Why do you assume I am going to tell you everything?'' Naros queried. ''You must have plenty of experience with the weakest of my 'type', as you would say. Generic _villains_. They give evil a bad name.''

''Whatever you're doing here, it needs to _stop_!'' said the Doctor furiously.

''Then my original question is answered. You do not see the purpose.''

''I've seen you _purposefully_ killing people. Innocent people who you've involved in…''

''I can see it pains you to be unaware of the big picture. You have all the pieces, Doctor, but you remain puzzled.''

''Enlighten me,'' the Doctor spat. Naros walked around Amy and The Doctor as they watched him cautiously, while the droning from the Doctor's pocket became louder. He paused on the other side of the Doctor and Amy and gazed out of the window at the silent delusion of a perfect night.

''Mercy is a trait I unfortunately have to tolerate in this form,'' he said. ''It vexes me to watch you struggle to understand. Though I was impressed by how long you have survived. A whole two days. Most don't make it past the elevator but I could see you were suspicious of that from the start.''

''As much as I'm enjoying this little chat,'' Amy chimed in, ''can we skip to the end? We get it, you're _bad_.''

''I thought my brother might have stopped you in the lower deck,'' Naros continued as if Amy had not spoken, ''but I can see you are not a mere peon. It's a shame I cannot coerce you into the converter.''

His eyes glanced slightly towards the lifts.

''The energy you would provide would be more than enough,'' he added.

''The elevators,'' guessed the Doctor. ''That's how you get the energy. You needed to hide the converter as something that can be charged.''

''Maybe I was wrong,'' said Naros, surprised. ''Maybe not all of you humans are entirely worthless. Your brain could be useful, Doctor. It could do so much more.''

''Energy?'' queried Amy curiously.

''People. He's using people, sending them up the elevators and disintegrating them to fuel his ship,'' answered the Doctor, never taking his eyes off of his enemy.

''You know why we are here,'' Naros responded. ''Our ship will not transport without energy. You want us to leave, but we cannot until the ship is stable. To depart, sacrifices had to, and still must, be made.''

''There are other ways to fuel your ship, there are always other ways, you didn't have to kill anyone!'' the Doctor fumed. ''And what's more, you're making the ones you didn't completely destroy live through their murders over and over again.''

''But you do not see the beauty in it? They cannot die again. They are merely reborn. They are living on. I have saved them.''

''They still have memories; they still think they're real and they're going through all kinds of death each day! Your idea of heaven is their hellish reality. There's no beauty in what you're doing.''

''All I ask is that you let me take one more soul. One more and then I'll be gone, back to my own dimension forever.''

''To burn more planets and salvage dangerous creatures?''

''You have knowledge, Doctor. I'm impressed. Though you are wrong in your assumptions. I did not cause the supernova. I merely saw it coming. The Raxillion, however, you are correct about them. They are dangerous. Which means to me, they are useful.''

''Whatever your intentions, I'm afraid I can't let you fulfil them,'' declared the Doctor.

''Then _I'm_ afraid you must be dealt with accordingly,'' Naros snapped.

''Oh this is where I get to say you were wrong in _your_ assumptions,'' sparked the Doctor, stepping back slightly. ''I'm not a boy. Not a man. I'm not even human. I'm a Time Lord!''

The pitch of the sonic screwdriver had reached its peak. In the gap in the discussion, the noise became obviously apparent. While the carbon-copy of Cole began to collapse in on itself into Naros' smoke-form, the Doctor's hand launched out of his pocket and up into the air. He grabbed a tight hold of Amy's hand and the sonic screwdriver ignited with a stunning green gleam.

Everything around the Doctor and Amy became hazy and distorted like they were losing consciousness. Their surroundings swirled into pitch blackness and remained as such while their dizziness washed away. The Doctor buzzed the sonic again and the room was swamped in light. They were in the lobby.

''How did you do that?'' Amy awed, her voice echoing and bouncing from wall to wall.

''It's definitely him,'' stated the Doctor. ''He came from the other dimension. Which means there's a dimensional transporter somewhere nearby; wherever his ship is. It's not strong enough to take him home but it's got enough power to transport us.

''With a little tweaking,'' he added, spinning the screwdriver around his fingers and putting it back in his pocket like a pistol.

''He didn't say anything about another dimension until after you started using the sonic,'' Amy pointed out, wondering how the Doctor knew what to do.

''Yes, well, I was hoping something would come up that I could use the sonic on,'' guffawed the Doctor.

''Well never,'' said Amy exasperatedly keeling over, ''do it again.''

''I take you across the stars in a little wooden blue box and you tell me to go faster, but if I skip a few staircases you're on the verge of throwing up.''

Amy collected herself but quickly fell apart again, dissolving into a fit of giggles.

''What now?'' said the Doctor, trying not to smile. Amy tried to speak through her laughter but could only muster pointing at the Doctor's head.

''You just had a showdown with an alien murderer,'' she sniggered, ''wearing earmuffs.''

The Doctor looked a little embarrassed but coolly turned it into smugness.

''Well then he must think I'm the coolest opponent ever,'' he said. ''Which reminds me… snooping's over.''

He took off the flippant hat and Amy did the same, swallowing her laughter.

''It's time for some opposing,'' exclaimed the Doctor with a spark in his eye.


	16. Down and Out

The lobby was hauntingly devoid of life. The lights glimmered unnaturally, high overhead. A pin falling to the ground would have sounded like an anvil dropping; a whisper like a thousand snakes hissing. The bolted gates across the staircase and the chameleon-esque doors that sunk into the walls made the room feel like a stretched out prison cell to Amy and the Doctor, who looked around for anything that would signal their next move.

''We need to find his ship,'' motioned the Doctor. ''If you were sucked into a black hole and transported to another dimension, where in a mostly real and even more mostly fake ex-hotel would you hide a spaceship?''

''I'll let you know when I've finished deciphering that sentence,'' affirmed Amy. ''We still don't know how the hotel is connected to the ship, now that you mention it.''

''Or what it's even doing here,'' added the Doctor, spinning around looking for nothing in particular. ''An entire skyscraper can't just fall out of the sky, somebody would have seen-'' the Doctor stopped mid-sentence and ceased revolving on the spot. He stared blankly at another.

''Amy,'' he continued, ''tell me I'm a genius.''

''Like you need the ego boost,'' Amy responded drily. The Doctor looked baffled. Amy shook her head in a 'never-mind' way.

''You're a genius,'' she commiserated. ''And you look dashing in that jacket,'' she added facetiously.

''Do you think so? I've been considering moving up to leather late-''

''Don't push it.'''

''_Anyway_, it's right there in front of me. It has been the whole time. I should have seen it before now.''

''Maybe you're not as smart as you think,'' sassed Amy.

''Amy, what have I said about being ridiculous?'' the Doctor tittered back. Amy rolled her eyes and half-smiled.

''Alright, brainiac,'' she said, ''ramble away.''

''The meteor,'' stated the Doctor simply.

''The one that destroyed the hotel?''

''Think about it. Surely there were people watching the sky yet no one saw the meteor coming. No astrologists, no scientists, no one. Huge big chunk of rock flying towards the biggest holiday destination, the biggest _building_ in the country. The people inside were all locked up and blocking out the rest of the world so it makes sense for them to not notice, but the rest of the world didn't see it coming either. It's like the meteor was cloaked. Like it was-''

''-wasn't a meteor at all,'' finished Amy. ''You think it was the ship?''

''I think now we know what happened inside the black hole,'' the Doctor suggested. ''The bad guys and their ship both arrived here but not at the same time. The smoke… things, and their pets, got here first and started doing the only thing they knew how.''

''Sucking the fun out of the place,'' Amy chipped in. ''Literally.''

''But it had to have been for a purpose,'' the Doctor continued. ''You saw what they were like in the memories. They even spoke about how the ship was here, and that was before the 'meteor' came down.''

''So how can the meteor be the ship if the ship was already here when it crashed?''

The Doctor considered this.

''Maybe the 'meteor' wasn't the whole ship,'' he thought out loud. ''Naros told his brother not to leave the lower deck, and where did we find him? The maintenance rooms. How many buildings have _tunnels_ leading to an underground, glorified janitor's closet?''

''So if that's the lower deck of their ship,'' said Amy, realising what the Doctor was onto and puffing up her cheeks with a grin, ''and there's nothing above it but the lobby, then the upper deck must be-''

''-very high up indeed. It fell apart. The must have fallen apart in the black hole. Or, more accurately, two parts.''

The Doctor suddenly looked to the corner of his eye. He rushed around the other side of the administration counter and began rummaging through the drawers.

''What are you looking for?'' enquired Amy.

''Everything we figure out, every piece we put together, _none_ of it explains how there's a massive structure just conveniently standing here for it all to be figured out in the first place,'' complained the Doctor while tossing rubbish over his shoulder and digging deeper into the hardwood mines of Alison's clerical files. ''There's no way the Reaper could reconstruct this hotel with such few resources.''

He found what he was looking for: the scanning device Alison used to check people into the hotel. He held it in his hand and perused Amy with its red detector. Checking the back once he was done, the Doctor's face lit up like a light bulb was shining above his head.

''Haven't you already got enough toys to play with?'' Amy jested.

''Recognise this red light? Scanners like these are usually green. Well, always, green. Well, mostly green. There is this one place on Mars that insists on everything being shades of magenta. Or at least the owner does. He's afraid of the other colours, they were mean to him in the Rainbow Sky of Bellray Four-''

''Doctor,'' Amy interrupted drily.

''I've been wanting to get a look at this thing since we got here,'' the Doctor continued. ''This must be connected to the signal shooting up the centre of the building, so it can alter the perception of its user. That's how Alison never got suspicious when people arrived who weren't on the guest list.''

''How many more things have you noticed that you aren't going to tell me?'' asked Amy.

''I've noticed things that I haven't told myself yet,'' the Doctor answered. ''They'll come around eventually. Anyway, maybe we can use this scanner to see what this place is really hiding. We just need to get back to the lower deck of the Reaper's ship. That seems like the best place to start.''

''We can't go back there,'' cried Amy, ''It's filled with Raxer-… those dogs and smoke-guy's smoke-brother.''

''Ever the master of articulation, Pond,'' the Doctor jived.

''Oh, shut it space boy.''

''Oi, space _man_ I can handle but space_ boy_ is just… just degrading.''

Amy pulled a face that had indifference written all over it.

''Okay, into the ship we go, but you first,'' said Amy. ''Space boy,'' she added quickly. The Doctor glared at her before they made their way across the desolate lobby to the maintenance door. Shutting the door behind them, they left the empty wasteland of the once grandeur filled room in its quiet state of melancholy.

Down the bleak tunnel and back into the perilous cesspool of the maintenance room the Doctor and Amy went. An old, poorly kept room hiding an even older one, the alien spacecraft was as decrepit as when they had first found it. They crept around the many chattering computers and muffled the delicate splash of water droplets with the careful patter of their own footsteps.

Reaching the veiled door in the corner, they went through as quietly as they could into the room with eight doors. From the shadows of the ceiling, several Raxillion crawled into the light, discreetly watching the duo trespass in their home.

''Alright, Amy, pick a door,'' the Doctor chirped.

''All of them,'' Amy spoke without hesitation.

''Good answer,'' said the Doctor, ''but let's find out the easy way.''

He held the sonic screwdriver high above his head and activated the switch. It buzzed annoyingly, like it was struggling to live up to its purpose. Sparks flew out of the end and the power in the sonic, along with the light in the entire room, died out.

''Oh, this place just isn't your friend, is it?'' said the Doctor to his sonic like a mother to a baby. Plunged into total darkness, the Doctor and Amy waited quietly until the mysterious red light around one of the doors faded back into view, stronger than before.

''I guess we're going that way,'' shrugged Amy, skipping over to the door and waltzing through. The Doctor was still paying attention only to the sonic.

''When we get out of here,'' he muttered, ''we'll find a _nice_ door for you to open that won't make any-''

He looked up and realised there was nobody else in the room.

''Oh,'' he said, gaping awkwardly and looking back down to the sonic in horror. ''I'm talking to a screwdriver.''

Putting it discreetly back in his pocket as if there was someone watching him, he trotted out after Amy.


	17. The Other Half

Not even the static of the air could be heard inside the empty, cold passageway to the tunnel that was apparently leading away from the lower deck. The pair crept quietly along, Amy recoiling at the faintest echo while the Doctor remained unflinching; his eyes filled with a mix of determination and curiosity. Amy suddenly started sniffing.

''What's that smell?'' she asked. The Doctor halted in his tracks the second he paid attention to the air.

''Irrodium,'' he alleged. ''But no, it can't be. They cleared it all away…''

He shot his sonic into the air and clicked. Nothing happened.

''Oh, don't do this to me now,'' he said irritably.

''What is it?'' asked Amy. ''What's wrong?''

''It won't say if it's real or just another trick,'' he moaned, putting the sonic away in disappointment. ''We're Schrodinger's cat,'' he added.

''Schrodinger's what?'' inquired Amy.

''Well I was expecting 'who's cat?', but anyway… Schrodinger was a philosopher. He put a cat in a box that was set to be filled with poison at a completely random time, thus the cat could be said to be both alive and dead at once, since no one knew if the poison had been released yet.''

''That's awful!''

''All hypothetical of course. I _probably_ should have led with that.''

''Perhaps, yes,'' said Amy scathingly. ''Well, our situation seems to be a little less than hypothetical. How long do we have before we can _open the box_ and find out?''

''It'll be more like trying to crack a safe underwater, while partly unconscious and strapped to an anchor. So about fifteen minutes, unless I can beat my record.''

''Great. Come on then,'' said Amy, swaggering off.

''One day somebody will believe that story…'' the Doctor muffled to himself and followed after.

...

Amy and the Doctor, after rushing through the tunnels as time was definitely not on their side, eventually made it to their destination. Cautiously pushing open the last door on their trip down below, they crept inside to find themselves coated in pitch darkness. A flick of the sonic later and the room was activated. A single blue light oozed out of the ceiling, slowly wound its way down vein-like wires that slithered along every wall. In the centre of the room, a small, circular platform sat underneath its twin which resided on the roof.

A smooth, textbook figure of a human being flickered into view between the two panels, like a hologram but appearing more solid. The character had no face, no features; just a grey, metallic looking outline. As the Doctor and Amy paced around it, gazing at it fixatedly with a mixture of adoration and fear, a hole in the vague shape of a mouth freakishly opened up in the centre of the figure's 'head'. The shape remained motionless as monotonous words came spewing out, echoing around the room.

''Assistance Android one-three-three-six-two-eight of star-ship designation 'Bueller', how may I assist you?''

''Ooh, working on your day off, are you?'' Amy sniggered. The Doctor shot her a deathly stare.

''What?'' she asked innocently. ''It's called _Bueller_. Don't act like you weren't thinking it.''

She crossed her arms and leant against the wall in a huff.

''Repeat last status report,'' said the Doctor to the grey figure.

''Status report: eleventh of October, twenty-two-fifty-four,'' said the android.

''About three days ago,'' the Doctor pointed out, to keep Amy informed.

''One more life-form required for successful teleportation,'' the hologram finished.

''Repeat status report from the day this ship arrived on Earth.''

''Status report unavailable. Services were not activated at your requested time. Visual recording will be displayed instead.''

The figure flickered away and the room plunged into total darkness. Another hologram appeared between the two panels. It was a silhouette of the event it was displaying: that of half a spacecraft travelling out of what appeared to be one end of a black hole. The Doctor and Amy watched on in reverence as the lower deck of the police craft from the Doctor's story shot out of the sky and plummeted towards the ground, oddly devoid of the hotel, and slamming into the field under which they now stood.

''Fast forward to the construction of 'The Vaconian','' commanded the Doctor. Again, the hologram obliged. The recording sped up to a remarkable speed. The ground which was torn apart by the landing of the lower deck was filled by nature's course; the field grew back over the hole and over the ship.

A few moments of nothing, before a swarm of people arrived on the scene a few dozen metres away from where the ship was buried, with an armada of construction machines and equipment. They erected a skyscraper before the Doctor and Amy's very eyes. Up it grew, lightning fast. It was like watching a jigsaw puzzle box being tipped upside down and every jumbled piece falling perfectly into place. With extra pieces. Not only was the hotel constructed, but a car park and an incredulous amount of scenery and features surrounding the hotel were built that took away the illusion that it was in the middle of a baron field.

''The ship landed first,'' Amy muttered. ''Doctor, how long was the hotel open for before it got destroyed?''

''About three hundred years,'' he answered. ''They waited three hundred years before they made their move…''

''Why?'' asked Amy. Before the Doctor could answer, the android's simulation skipped ahead to another scene. The lower deck of the Bueller, buried beneath the earth not too far from the three-hundred year old hotel, was as silent as 'The Vaconian' was large. Like a film playing on a three-dimensional screen, the simulation panned up above the ground and circled around the hotel as the first signs of a storm began to show from every direction. Bright figures of storm clouds gathering and meeting each other filled every void in the computer-generated sky, culminating in a tremendous bolt of lightning pummelling the ground where the ship was lying.

Inside the lower deck, lights were turning on left, right and centre. The ship had reactivated three-hundred years after it crashed.

''The storm?'' Amy chimed in. ''The storm woke it up?''

''It's not just any storm,'' said the Doctor. ''The ship's other half is on its way. Show the hotel's destruction,'' he added to the android, which obliged, showing the scene in fast-motion. The other part of the ship blasted out of the clouds and struck the hotel like a bullet, passing straight through without appearing to cause much damage. But 'The Vaconian' was reduced to rubble before Amy could look away. Years passed in the simulation as the wreckage and bodies were cleaned up. A huge fumigation tent was set up and lasted for a long part of the simulation, as people coated head to foot in safety gear walked in and out of the tent across several seasons.

''Okay, show me what happened in the black hole,'' spouted the Doctor. Followed was a quick, clustered clip of an intact ship zooming into a broken star, gliding down a shoot into nothingness. Lightning abounded inside, striking the ship at every turn and sending it spinning through the black hole. Eventually, the ship split in two and the lower half rocketed ahead and out of sight, while the top half slowed to an astonishing halt. Everything stopped with it: the lightning; the mess of other pieces of the universe that had been sucked in to the black hole as well. All that was left was the top deck of the Bueller, stuck in the centre of nevermore.

Out of nowhere and from beyond everything, something arose from the darkness and latched on to the ship. Several somethings, in fact. From each corner of the black hole, the unidentifiable shapes were attracted to the ship like a magnet and became a part of the top deck. They did not change its shape or add to it, but instead made it shake and rumble and fight against the stillness.

''What's that, what's it doing?'' enquired the Doctor.

''Irrodium. The highest concentration ever recorded in one place.''

''But what is it doing? What's the actual effect?''

''It's alive,'' came the android's dull, droning voice.

''''It's alive'', what do you mean it's alive? How can a ship be alive?'' spewed the Doctor.

''It's alive,'' repeated the automaton.

''_How_ is it alive?'' asked the Doctor again, getting more frustrated with each word. The simulation ended again, once more to be replaced with the textbook figure of the android. Its face convulsed like it was melting upwards and the mouth appeared, this time in the shape of an actual human mouth.

The gooey metal that formed the hotel drooped out from the top panel and rose up from the bottom one, meeting in the middle and covering the hologram, which flickered away. The newly formed humanoid was just like the hologram, but physically in the room with the now terrified Amy and the startled Doctor. It leant down towards the latter and contorted its freshly formed face into an angry expression, before speaking with the light voice of a woman.

''I'm alive.''


	18. Bueller's Monster

The creature stepped down from its podium. The Doctor backed away, ending up front of Amy, taking her back with him. They retreated around the room, the liquid metal monster slowly advancing on them. It struggled to make each step. It was still trying to get used to the novelty of being able to walk.

''Doctor,'' Amy began, ''you might not have noticed – understandable, you've got a lot on your plate – but um, there's no door.''

''I'm a little preoccupied with the metal man-woman-thing, Amy,'' said the Doctor calmly. He suddenly got a little afraid.

''…also what do you mean there's no door?'' he added.

''I mean, there _was _a door, but now there's just a whole heap of not-a-door-in-sight,' Amy huffed.

The lack of door in question had transformed into a wavy wall of liquid metal.

''Well that hasn't stopped us before,'' asserted the Doctor. ''Don't worry, Pond.''

''Worry? Oh, I'm not worried,'' said Amy sarcastically. ''Big metal monster; no way out; a sonic screwdriver that doesn't work. What have we got to be worried about? As long as you're calm, I'm calm.''

''See, now you're getting it,'' the Doctor jested.

''But also if you don't get us out of here soon, my spirit will haunt you forever.''

''Hang on, why does it always fall on me to save the day?''

''Twelve years,'' stated Amy simply.

''Oh, you're not still holding that against me, are you?'' sighed the Doctor.

''Twelve years,'' said Amy again, innocuously.

''Okay fine,'' the Doctor conceded, ''but next time, _you_ come up with a plan.''

He suddenly stopped and took a step forward towards the machine-like monster.

''Repeat all major status reports since the ship crashed into 'The Vaconian'!'' he commanded. Like clockwork, the android stood up straight and started spitting out statements one after the other.

''Status report: dimensional transporters are ineffective. Journey home will require sufficient amounts of energy for transporters to be operational.''

''That should slow it down for a while,'' chirped the Doctor. The android fought back; the live side of it opposing the programming. It took more steps towards the Doctor and Amy and reached out its hand, before freezing.

''Well, kind of,'' sputtered the Doctor.

''Status report: ground level inaccessible until aftermath of event classified by humans as 'Disaster' is cleared,'' screeched the monster, before tearing through its protocol and advancing on the pair. ''Entering hibernation mode.''

''Any progress on that 'way out' plan yet, Doctor?'' asked Amy timidly.

''Don't rush me,'' the Doctor replied coolly.

''Status report: aftermath cleared. Ten year hibernation ceased,'' said the android. It broke fiercely through the Doctor's trick to transform its hand into an oddly shaped weapon. A bulge of liquid metal flowed down its arm and with slight recoil, launched out of the weapon and narrowly missed the Doctor and Amy. It hit the wall behind them, causing a relatively large hole.

''No pressure,'' said Amy.

''Scanning ground level surface area for suitable energy substitute,'' said the metal woman, weakly circling the room. Amy and the Doctor had run to the other side of the panels.

''Expanding search radius. Energy identified: planet's dominant species, human. Suggested method of acquiring energy: trap.''

''Oh that's a bit rude,'' exclaimed the Doctor, ''humans aren't that stupid.'' He looked at Amy. ''Are you?''

Amy scowled. The monster fired another blob of liquid metal that made another hole in the wall that went so far through the side of the ship that a cascade of dirt tumbled into the room and ended up in a heap, blocking the pathway and overflowing onto the panel in the centre. The monster changed directions; the Doctor and Amy could no longer escape it by running in circles.

''Status report: Final twenty-four hours… of con-...construct accessible through video, video, video feeds captured upon atmospheric entry,'' stammered the metal woman, battling for control of itself. ''Interactive m-m-m-memories available for use.''

The wall where the only door once rested was now completely smooth. It was like the room itself was unwilling to let them escape. The Doctor held up the scanner and pressed his sonic screwdriver onto the top of it, trying desperately to get it to work.

''Come on, come on,'' he slurred irritably as the sonic whirred on and off. Finally it sparked to life and a splash of red emanated from the scanner, lighting up the room with a laser-like glow and revealing the gap in the wall where the door once resided. ''Right then. Now we just need to blow it up.''

He switched off the sonic and thusly the scanner. He dashed over to the not-door and waved his arms feverishly about.

''Over here you big metal lump!'' he cried with glee, signalling the creature over to him. ''Come on, come on. This is the one time I'll encourage the use of a gun, don't pass up the opportunity!''

The thing turned its disquieting head and lunged towards the Doctor, lashing out its weaponized arm. It fired off a few shots, all of which missed the Doctor completely; instead they narrowly avoided Amelia who had to jump around to evade getting hit. More huge dents shattered the wall, but promptly healed themselves like the surface of a pool after somebody had dived in. All of the previous holes followed suit.

The alien menace composed itself, stood up straight and took careful aim at the Doctor, who braced himself to duck.

''Status report: Commence hotel reconstruction,'' it said dispassionately, before blowing a gaping hole in the side of the room that led to the passageway outside. The force of the shot blew the woman backwards while the Doctor had dropped to the floor just in time to let the blob of metal fly over him.

The wall began to recover. The parts that weren't destroyed oozed into the gap. Amy ran through before the Doctor had a chance to get up. He pushed himself to his feet and observed the panels in the centre lighting up once more to show another hologram. The same kind of substance that the monster was made up of rose out of the dirt that suffocated the bottom panel, and rose all the way up to the top in the vague shape of a building.

Amy's arm reached back inside the room to pull the Doctor out before the wall closed in on the door. They stumbled to the floor outside just as the gap sealed completely. Pulling each other up, they raced back down the tunnel, lit up weakly by the efforts of the sonic.

''I know you're tired,'' said the Doctor. ''Not long now before this is over.''

''Doctor!'' Amy cried, ''will you _stop_ talking to your screwdriver?!''

The Doctor put the sonic back in his pocket. They made it to the end of the tunnel in no time and thumped the door open at the other end. Slamming it shut from the other side, they had a few moments to catch their breath before another threat emerged from the ceiling. Several other threats. An armada of threats. They had forgotten all about the Raxillion, whose lair they had chosen to take a breather in.

Roof panels from dispersed parts of the room were clawed open or knocked straight to the floor one by one as the malicious hounds entered the room upside down, their paws sticking to the ceiling effortlessly while their forked tails grimly wagged about.

The Raxillion paced across the ceiling, occasionally barking or growling when another crossed their path, but remained focussed on Amy and the Doctor. As the pair stood silently and without moving an inch, a humming awkwardly broke the silence. The sonic screwdriver grew louder and louder until it clicked and the buzzing stopped. A bright green spark shot out of the Doctor's pocket and a grin spread across his cheeks.

''Now,'' he purred, ''who wants to play?''


	19. Barking Up the Wrong Tunnel

The raxillion stopped striding across the ceiling and stood perfectly still, almost like they were in formation. Every pair of eyes was looking down on the Doctor, who was staring back at each of them in turn, beaming haughtily.

''Amy, that door over there,'' he said, signalling to one of the few exits clenched by red light, ''walk to it. They won't attack you and if they do, they'll regret it.''

''I'm assuming you have a plan, otherwise you wouldn't be smiling,'' said Amy, walking casually to the door.

''Well you know what they say.''

''What, a smile a day keeps the hellhounds at bay?''

''Well no,'' said the Doctor with humph, but carried on chirpily, ''but I like that. Did you just come up with that?''

The raxillion readied themselves to pounce. Amy saw them in the corner of her eye.

''Focus, Doctor,'' she fretted.

''Okay, open the door and wait for my signal. When it comes, wait ten seconds and slam the door shut again.''

''What's the signal gonna be?''

''Oh, you'll know.''

The Doctor whirled around on the spot and shot the sonic up into the air. The tip shone brighter and brighter until a tennis ball sized light sat on top like a lollipop. He spun it around like a lasso and it released a high pitched squeal that only grew louder. Amy covered her ears and winced. The raxillion started to whimper and scurry about, wanting nothing more than to claw at the wailing green ball of light.

''Now, fetch,'' he declared, and lashed the screwdriver towards the open door. The ball whizzed down into a dark tunnel, the noise a split second behind it echoing back into the room. In a mess of stumbling legs and thrashing tails, the dogs pelted along the ceiling and out through the door. When the last one had crossed the threshold, Amy shoved the door closed and it bolted into place.

''Aha!'' jeered the Doctor. ''Rule of the universe number sixty-three: no matter what dimension it's from, a dog will always chase a ball.''

''Well you definitely made that one up,'' Amy affirmed. ''You couldn't possibly have known they'd fall for that!''

''Rule of the universe number eleven: it's impossible to make up a rule of the universe,'' the Doctor retorted. ''Seriously there's a guidebook and everything.''

The walls all around them began to shift. As if they were made of water and a stone had been thrown into them, a ripple swam around, washing away the outlines of the doors and leaving behind a blank, bland barricade. As the wave flowed in each direction around the room, gradually making its way towards the only door left, the Doctor reacted like he was in a western standoff and blasted the door open with the sonic, seized Amelia and hurtled out of the room.

Catching their breath, once again in consuming darkness, they relaxed for a second before the Doctor lit up the tunnel with a burst of light.

''I guess we're going this way, then,'' avowed Amy, who strutted down the corridor.

...

With the malfunctioning sentient service android still clambering about and the raxillion tricked into running in the opposite direction, Amy and the Doctor walked a little less than leisurely through the tunnel. They may have been safe for now, but if the hotel had taught them one thing it was that anything could be around the next corner, or behind them, or even above.

''Sentient metal,'' the Doctor marvelled. ''I have to admit, I did not see that one coming.''

''How did that even happen?'' Amy probed.

''You saw in the black hole, those things attaching themselves to the ship… all of that irrodium. The sentience of the germs merged with the metal of the craft and voila!''

''But… that only happened to the top part of the spaceship. Weren't we just in the bottom part?''

''The tunnel we went through to get there… it felt a bit long, didn't it? Now we just need to find our way back.''

''And do what?''

''I don't know, I'm sure I'll think of something. Always do. Even when I don't. Especially when I don't. Sometimes when it's too late but never when it's too early. I come up with a plan exactly when I could have used it a few minutes ago.''

''Well… as long as you get us out of here in one piece, your timing's fine with me.''

''One piece, yes. One _whole _piece, I can never guarantee. Rule of the universe number one-hundred and eleven: you never know when your nose might wander off.''

They reached the end of the tunnel, but could barely see in front of them. Something bright up ahead, combined with the light of the screwdriver, was knocking their vision down. The Doctor switched off the sonic to reveal a cave-like hole in the end of the tunnel leading into a luminous white room.

Hesitantly, they snuck into the dazzlingly bright chamber and looked around from between their fingers. It was entirely empty except for a slightly darker plinth in the centre.

''Dead end?'' Amy asked.

''Looks like it,'' said the Doctor, ''but there's one way to find out. Stand back. Stay away from that platform.''

He regained the scanner from his pocket and waved it around the room, pressing the sonic to it just like in the android's lair to emit the red laser. Nothing changed until he pointed it at the podium. Transparent, watery yellow plasma floated from the panel to the roof, in a perfect cylinder.

''Now what are yo-'' the Doctor began, but was interrupted by a horrendous level of barking coming from the tunnel outside. Louder and louder it grew before three raxillion ran into view and launched themselves, one after the other, down from the roof at the Doctor. Before they reached his height, however, they were sucked into the plasma beam and disappeared with a fizzle and a whelp.

''Well, that answers that question,'' snickered the Doctor, putting the scanner in his jacket. ''Onwards and upwards!''

Without warning, he leapt into the now invisible plasma and vanished without a trace.

''Wait, Doctor, what?!'' Amy yelled into the void, but it was too late. She threw side to side and hobbled on the spot timidly.

''Oh, I am going to kill him,'' she muttered, before a resolute 'aahh' bounced around the air and Amy flung herself into the beam.

Amelia felt like an ant in a vacuum cleaner. Up she soared through an invisible pipe that pulled and pulled. Her body was dispersed like a voice travelling from one cell phone to another, yet she felt whole. She couldn't breathe, but didn't need to. What she could see of her surroundings spun into a haze, taking her with it. What little light there was shone brighter and brighter until she couldn't see anything else. Suddenly, it all stopped. The light died down and the Doctor came into focus, along with the strangest sky she'd ever seen.

Scattered throughout the mostly clear blue sky were hundreds of raging storm clouds, each with their own mesh of lightning, rain and gushing wind. Some parts of the sky didn't even have clouds, just water racing out of one edge and disappearing into another. It was as if there were holes in the atmosphere; windows to another world where a perpetual storm rattled the sky.

They were on the roof of 'The Vaconian'. It was bare except for a few satellite dishes, a small concrete box with the entrance door leaning on it and patches of the floor that were getting soaked with rain. It took Amy a few moments to take it all in.

''Poor things,'' said the Doctor, staring wistfully upwards, ''still not adapted to Earth's gravity. No ceiling to land on up here.''

''I don't… I don't understand,'' Amy stammered, struggling to adjust her eyes to the miraculous sights in front of them. The Doctor noticed her gawking at the sky.

''We're still technically in the hotel,'' he explained, ''but we're technically outside as well. The projection can't decide if it needs to show us the storm or not.''

''It's sort of… beautiful.''

''If you like that, come and look at this.''

The Doctor was standing by the edge of the roof. He turned and leant on the wall as Amy joined him. Looking down over the side of the hotel, nothing could be seen from about twenty storeys down as everything was blocked by a mass of clouds.

''Not many people have been up here,'' the Doctor went on. ''The guests weren't allowed and the staff never need to come up. Everyone was too preoccupied with the fake weather in the windows to ever notice that the real thing was much, much better.''

''All that time,'' Amy pondered, ''three hundred years and nobody ever thought to come out here and just… look. Just look at where they were standing. Where they were _really_ standing.''

''This isn't what they paid for. They paid for fancy suites and poker. Good food and better wine. When right above them was something priceless. Freedom.''  
Amy looked at the Doctor looking out into the open air. For the first time since she had boarded the TARDIS and started running, she realised that she wasn't the only one, and that they weren't just running away. They were chasing something more.

What they didn't realise was that there was something chasing them, and it was knocking on the door.


	20. A Choice and a Chance

A vulgar thump bellowed over the faint sounds of the skyward storm. An outward dint was knocked into the door from the inside. Alarmed, the Doctor gyrated on the spot, his eyelids flaring with surprise.

Amy did almost the same, except panic hung off the end of her drooped jaw. Another thud and the Doctor decided to act. He used the sonic to bolt the door further then rushed to the closest satellite.

''What are you doing?'' Amy wondered aloud. ''Can I help?''

''Lucky we were teleported all the way up here,'' he replied, once again taking out the scanner and combining it with the force of the sonic screwdriver. ''I can recalibrate the destination of the transporters so that when the ship takes off, it'll be taken to the wrong dimension; one devoid of life. No lives to ruin but their own.''

''But he said those transporter things aren't working yet,'' Amy retorted, ''so what's the point? ''

Another powerful knock rapped on the door and another dint appeared. The hinges rattled slightly.

''You're not gonna let him kill someone else are you?'' Amy added, half joking. She promptly turned serious. ''Are you?''

The Doctor finished up messing around with the scanner and looked sombrely at Amy. He marched over to her and looked her dead in the eyes.

''No,'' he said, lecturing his companion, ''never. I'd put myself in that elevator before I'd let anyone else get thrown in.''

A moment of silence, interrupted by a thump, before Amy nodded her head. The Doctor scurried back to the satellite and fixed the scanner to the base of the dish. Amy straightened up and provoked him with another query.

''So how do you plan on fixing the transporter, then?''

The Doctor jammed the sonic into the satellite and rays of green radiated from the dish, before dissipating shortly after. He flipped the screwdriver in the air and faced Amy with a stern smile signalling he had a problematic plan.

''I don't let anyone else go in.''

''What's that supposed to mean?''

A switch flicked on in Amy's head. Her eyes thinned and her lips parted, not to meet again for a few long moments in which they tried to choreograph their movements into speech, but they both forgot how to dance.

''But…'' murmured Amy, after eventually regaining the ability to talk, ''you can't. How does that even work? You can't-you can't just throw yourself away like that.''

The Doctor saw Amy about to break down and immediately ambled to her until the tips of his shoes were pecking the tips of hers. He looked her up and down, sure that he'd done something wrong but not quite certain what that thing was.

''Hey,'' he said soothingly, resting his palms on Amy's shoulders, ''I'm not throwing myself away. Don't for a second think I'd leave you all alone in this nightmare resort. It only needs a bit of my hair.''

He pranced away to check back on the satellite, perusing every inch of it with the sonic.

''Time lord D.N.A,'' he continued. ''More energy than is necessary. Which _does_ come in handy, though I would like to be able to lie down every once in a while.''

Amy's short-lived sadness reformed effortlessly into frustration.

''Are you always going to be like that?'' she snapped, stepping forward a little. The Doctor gawkily glanced up with worried confusion.

''Mysterious and elusive. Implying one thing and meaning another,'' Amy finished.

''Amy, shush,'' the Doctor retorted, his eyes darting around madly. Amy scoffed.

''Don't you shush me, mister. I have every right to know what's going on in that funny shaped head of yours.''

''Amy, just listen. Do you hear anything?''

Amy stopped fuming and listened intently.

''No,'' she said huffily, ''why?''

''Somebody was at the door… so what happened to the knocking?''

Expecting something to come bursting into sight from any direction, they were staggered to see smoke seep out through the edges of the door.

''Got a plan?'' asked Amy.

''Uhh, hide until it goes away?'' proposed the Doctor.

''Works for me,'' piped Amy.

They snuck around behind the block that contained the staircase back into the building. Falling silently to the floor on the other side, the eerie smoke slid forwards a few feet and began to rise vertically upwards, leaving behind it the creepily climbing body of Cole. The last of the smoke dispelled off the top of a mesh of black hair.

''No more games, Doctor,'' rumbled the voice of Soran. ''I did not think you would reduce yourself and your companion to such a mindless attempt at concealment. I know of where you are avoiding confrontation, but I will not act to controvert your evasion.''

''What's he on about?'' Amy whispered, but was shunned by the Doctor's hushing gesture.

''Attempts to catch you, I see, are futile,'' the Reaper went on. ''Your tricks are not of this Earth. I am here to offer an ultimatum. Leave, now, and I will shortly follow suit. Or stay, and condemn yourself to isolation from this dimension. Either way, my job is done. The energy I require is on its way up. Good morning, Doctor.''

In a poof, Cole vanished and all that remained was a cloud of smoke that retracted back through the cracks in the door. The Doctor jolted up and ran around to the door, Amy hot on his tail. He sonicked the bolted door back to normal and flung it open.

''How do I save them?'' he asked himself, his eyes looking through every nook of his brain for an answer that kept escaping them. Without a plan, his first instinct was to run, and so he did; through the door and down the stairs and onto the hallway, Amy automatically following close behind. They tore down a couple of storeys, not quite knowing what they were heading for.

The Doctor came to a sudden stop on floor two-hundred and nineteen. Amelia almost rammed into him. The Doctor looked left and right, through the crowd of curious patrons and landed his sight on the corner of the hallway. Rushing to the other side of the floor, he sonicked open the elevator doors and looked down half a mile into the steel abyss. The screwdriver started to stutter and whine, like an engine failing.

''Don't. You. Do. This. To. Me. Now,'' stammered the Doctor, hitting the back of the screwdriver with each syllable. From the bottom of the pit came a rumble and a roar. The elevator was starting up.

''No,'' whimpered the Doctor, ''no!''

He hit each side of the open doors with the sides of his two clenched fists.

''There's got to be another way,'' griped Amy, ''another way to stop it. We have to get down there somehow.''

The Doctor turned intimidatingly to her.

''How?'' he cried. ''There is no other way. It's too late.''

''So you're just gonna give up?'' rebutted Amy. ''You teleported us down there once, do it again!''

''It's not that simple,'' retorted the Doctor. ''All the teleporter energy is focussed on the elevators, I can't do a thing.''

''You said you wouldn't let anyone else get in that thing! Doctor you can't just-''

''I can't what? I can't save everyone, there's another _rule _of the universe. The universe won't let me!''

''But you can at least try!''

The Doctor looked defeated. He turned back to face the open elevator doors, pressed each hand to the sides and let the weight of the weight of the walls hold him as he struggled with the weight on his shoulders.

''For me,'' Amy snivelled, ''whether you save them or not. I just want to see you try.''

The Doctor conceded to Amy's plea. He knew that there was nothing he could do. If there was a solution, he would know it. For the first time knowing it wouldn't have a purpose, he brought out the sonic screwdriver and yielded it towards the top of the shaft like he knew it would work. The façade, at the very least, brought Amy back to life a little, but it wasn't enough to save whichever poor soul was trapped in the now skyrocketing elevator.

Closer and closer it got to their floor, as the Doctor and the sonic fought hopelessly against it. Just when it seemed like the screwdriver was going to wear out, a grinding screech sounded from above. A mechanism at the top of the shaft was strangling the cables in an effort to slow down the steel cage.

The Doctor's eyes widened in surprise as hope hit him hard. Still tightly clasping the screwdriver, he looked at Amy and managed to muster half a smile before the elevator flew past the open doors, putting the sonic out like a candle in the wind and shoving its carrier to the floor. The Doctor closed his eyes in despair.

The electric blue from the energy converters flooded the scene. Florid red hair waving in the remnants of a deathly gust, the light of the sonic screwdriver falling asleep and the ghosts of the past idly walking by with only a curious glance to give to the present; all lit up by the eerie light of a life just lived. Beauty in death, and still the Doctor refused to see it.


	21. The Broken Sky

Still in despair at the aftermath of his failed rescue, the Doctor put all of his determination into standing up and storming towards the nearest window. Slashing his screwdriver like a sword through the air, he took away the curtain of false weather from the glass and looked outwards and upwards. The storm, while still heavily attacking the sky, had calmed down.

It was morning again, according to the hotel. 'Good morning, Doctor,' the Reaper had said to him, and now he knew what he had meant.

''He's reset the hotel,'' the Doctor snarled.

''What for?'' asked Amy.

''He saw what I did to the satellites,'' said the Doctor, still staring curiously out of the window, ''he wants to slow me down.''

''He knows you're trying to send him to the wrong dimension?'' questioned Amy.

The Doctor simply turned, smiled and shuffled away. He broke into a quick jog, gallanting between the ghostly guests. Amy took his lead but stopped halfway down the corridor as the Doctor made it all the way to a window on the other side. He did the same thing: beheld the sights with inquisitive scrutiny.

''What are you getting so happy about?'' shouted Amy. The Doctor started to run back to the first window but was forced to come to a skidding halt by the intimidating glare of his companion, stood with her arms fiercely crossed in the middle of the hallway. All it took was a raise of her eyebrows to and the Doctor smiled weakly before speaking up.

''I can't activate the dimension change while the hotel is still halfway through the program,'' he said excitedly, ''I need to wait until the storm is at its peak. Not sure why. Inter-dimensional travel: if it makes sense it won't work properly. Rule of the universe number thirty-two. Never understood that one but it's easily my favourite.''

''Well I still don't understand why that's something to smile about,'' Amy stated.

''It's not,'' affirmed the Doctor, ''but adding a safeguard is. He only_ thinks_ he has time to fix it, but I can just take his toys from him.''

With a skip in his step he launched himself through the hallway, back across to the first window of which he'd removed the mirage. Sliding it open, he stuck his head out and looked up to the muddled, half-stormy half-clear sky.

''I can just reach the satellites from here!'' he exclaimed, half of his face apparently soaking wet. He punched the air, screwdriver drawn at the ready, and sent the whirring noise echoing upwards, transmitting to the satellites above.

''Got to love the attention to detail, Amy!'' he cried back into the hall. ''The ship's alive and the hotel with it, but the centrepiece is all machine. They built the dimensional stuff right into the middle, from the bottom of the elevator shaft all the way up to the dishes on the roof. They put a trap in their building at the cost of making it too much like a building; working satellites and all!''

The Doctor reeled himself back into the hall and motioned for Amy to come and see.

''I can transmit something all the way through the hotel,'' he finished, as Amy joined him in getting some fresh air. They looked up into the broken sky and watched on in astonishment as fragments of the storm windows fell away like shattered glass. They crumbled away piece by piece, vanishing into the clouds below and leaving a perfect atmosphere in their wake. It was enough to make the pair forget about all the death they were running away from, just for a moment.

''What's happening to it?'' quizzed Amy. Recoiling back through the window, she twirled around to see the same thing occurring to the hallway. The Doctor followed suit, mesmerized by the show he had activated, of which a clear view was given as the guests popped away one by one.

''I'm disintegrating the placebo drive so my rigged dimensional transporters will work,'' he bragged.

''Doesn't that mean we have to get out of here pretty quick than?'' said Amy, more stating a fact than asking a question.

''Probably, yeah,'' the Doctor agreed, but both of them continued to watch their world literally crumble around them.

''How quick?''

''Depends on how I took down the placebo drive. Either it continues on like this for a while, giving us about an hour before the liquid metal stuff melts back down and reforms the ship it came from…''

''Or…?''

The Doctor turned timidly back to face the window and anxiously looked up. In the distance, through one of the storm windows, a large black shape was growing larger as it came closer. Amy saw the Doctor peeking out of the window and fearfully did the same. Her eyes widened as she realised what was happening.

''Or… that,'' said the Doctor simply.

''Fairly quickly then?'' said Amy in a sarcastic calming voice.

''Not quite as quickly as running away from a herd of gazelle,'' began the Doctor, looking lethargically up towards the ceiling as Amy continued to gaze up at the sky, ''but definitely faster than a pack of raxillion.''

Amy's face went from passive worry to active panic.

''Doctor,'' she said, ''please tell me you're just using an expression that has no relevance whatsoever to the current situation.''

''I'm just using an expression that has no relevance whatsoever to the current situation,'' the Doctor replied nonchalantly.

''Now tell me how bad it really is,'' muttered Amelia.

''On a scale of one to bad,'' the Doctor started, ''pretty bad. The bad is wearing a dress.''

''Ooh, that does sound pretty,'' said Amy with a newfound confidence, whirling around to face the ceiling that was now crawling with vicious hellhounds, ''but those tails _really_ don't go with that fur.''

They edged sneakily across the hallway, scuffling their feet across the gradually disappearing carpet. The raxillion eyed them savagely, but did not make a move beyond following their pace along the ceiling. Some of them up ahead of the Doctor and Amy clawed their way down the walls, preparing to round them off.

''Plan?'' requested Amy.

''Your turn,'' rebutted the Doctor.

''Hide until it goes away?''

''That's _my_ plan.''

''Okay, I'll run and you distract them?''

''Alright, fine, I'll think of a plan.''

The Doctor pressed his hands together, held them over his head and rubbed them like he was warming them over a fire. There was a spark in his mind and it was lighting up. The raxillion snarled and started growing restless. The Doctor held his hands still for a moment or two, before bringing them crashing down to his sides.

The raxillion lunged.


	22. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Elevator

The raxillion threw themselves at the Doctor, lashing their pointy tongues and whipping their pointier tails. Almost immediately, they were sucked back up to the ceiling as their unique relationship with gravity took over. They tried over and over again to jump so far as to reach their prey but could never get further than a scratch just above his head.

''I've been wondering all day what would happen if they actually got a chance to try that!'' he said whimsically.

Amy was cowering under her own arms. She unveiled herself when she realised the dogs weren't attacking them and scowled at the Doctor.

''What if they _could_ jump that far?'' she shouted.

''Admittedly, something I probably should have thought about,'' the Doctor confessed.

The raxillion that had dug their sharp claws into the walls and yanked themselves down to the floor began to drag their strained bodies along the ground, while the ones on the roof were backing up, getting ready to make a running leap.

''Right, well, actual plan time it seems,'' proclaimed the Doctor. He glanced over to the elevator and then to Amy, back and forth until she put the pieces together.

''No,'' she stated absolutely.

''Do you see another way out?'' the Doctor asked. Amy folded her arms. Still looking at her, the Doctor smarmily pulled out the sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the elevator doors, which opened to display the lift slowly descending past them. Amy cleared her throat to turn the Doctor's attention to the escaping elevator.

Over he looked, and the raxillion seemed to notice too. They made their move, taking advantage of the Doctor and Amy's lack of escape.

''Run!'' cried the Doctor. They pelted around the corner of the hallway, away from the floor crawling hellhounds and past the roof dwellers. They skidded over to the staircase, raxillion gaining speed behind them. They bounced from the roof to the walls and the floor and back again, using their gravity reversal as a flight aid. Some bounded down the staircase through the air after Amy, others running ahead of the Doctor on the ceiling and attempting to jump at him from there.

They reached the next floor down and rushed around to the elevators. The doors were heaved open by the sonic screwdriver to reveal the lift once again descending past them. The Doctor managed to swing open the doors to the actual lift before powering onwards to outrun the raxillion.

''We can make the next one!'' he yelled over the sound of wild, rancorous barking. ''Come along, Pond!''

''I'm in front of you!'' came a cry from ahead of the Doctor. They thudded onto the next floor, the elevator doors already reeling into the walls. Amy leapt into the lift, now a touch faster than it was going before, followed swiftly by the Doctor. He slammed against the back wall in his haste, and turned to close the doors just as a raxillion jumped through them.

Amy acted before the Doctor could react.

''Heel!'' she exclaimed, kicking the beast out of the lift. The Doctor gaped at her as the doors slid clumsily shut. The lift zipped a little faster along its vertical path with the added weight, but the Doctor had faster plans. He pointed the sonic directly upwards and lit it up with a whir.

''Emergency sonic brakes on,'' he said.

''Brakes?!'' bellowed Amelia. ''Brakes?! You're making us fall?!''

''No,'' said the Doctor with a smirk, ''I'm making us fly. We just have to wait.''

''Wait for wha-'' Amy started to ask, but was interrupted by a huge quake that shook the building.

''We just got hit by the ghost of a meteor that's actually a ship that came alive and built the elevator that we're standing in,'' chirped the Doctor. ''Oh, it doesn't get better than this!''

Not far above them, a horrendous crunching noise shook the air, followed by a whip crack as the cables above them snapped and ricocheted around the shaft, clanging against the sides. The elevator got a burst of speed as it entered free fall.

''Hold on to your hat, Pond!'' shrilled the Doctor, far too enthusiastic about free falling down an elevator shaft.

''I'm not wearing a haaAHHH-'' Amy's sentence turned into a scream as the lift plummeted. Amy held on to the rail with all of her strength. The Doctor grasped it strongly enough to not be shaking about by the fall.

Amy's scream was outmatched by the whistling made by the screeching of metal on metal. Sparks flew from every edge where the lift met the shaft. The sheer speed of the thing, made faster by the force from the simulation that was emulating a collapsing building, was enough to make Amy want to pass out, while making the Doctor laugh like he was on the best roller coaster in the world.

Gravity decided it no longer wanted a part in the fun, leaving the scene and letting Amy and the Doctor's feet slip off the floor and into the middle of the elevator, tugging their bodies up with them. Still holding onto the rail, they were able to keep themselves from floating entirely in mid-air.

''Best. Vacation. Ever!'' the Doctor belted as loud as he could, but all he got in return was a continued set of variously pitched screams.

Amy's grasp on the rail slipped and she ended up floating in the air for a few seconds before the Doctor's hand reached out and pulled her back down. He placed her hand back on the rail and kept his rested firmly on top.

Just as the screeching, grinding and whooshing reached its peak, the Doctor and Amy glided elegantly down, their toes touching the floor with barely a tremor, joined soon after by their heels. The emergency, sonicked up brakes took effect, bringing the out of control elevator to a smooth stop. Amy and the Doctor rested steadily on their feet for a split second before the elevator faintly landed on the springs at the bottom of the shaft, sending them both crashing to the floor in a heap.

The elevator doors slid open with a ding. The Doctor and Amy looked at each other wearily, let out a weak laugh and lay on their backs, breathing heavily. Their moment of peace was disturbed by clang of the doors closing, followed by a light, cheery voice coming from the speakers above them.

''Going up,'' it said. The Doctor rolled over and reached out for his sonic screwdriver, which he had dropped during the fall.

''No, no, no, no, no,'' he quavered, zapping the doors with the waves of the sonic screwdriver.

...

Hurrying through the lobby was a trickier challenge than they had anticipated. The electronic guests were scrambling about in a frenzied panic, distraught at the devastation that the 'meteor' was causing. The uproar was made more prominent by the fact that people were flat out disappearing without a trace all around the hotel, while the walls, floors, tables, chairs, ornaments and everything in between were crumbling away like a rock struck by a pick axe.

Pieces of the hotel were falling away and landing in nothingness, revealing nothing but metal of all kinds of density, gradually melting away to the floor below. The process of everything was speeding up as the hotel powered down. Amy and the Doctor reached the front door. Before they could even attempt to open it, it disappeared, leaving the shape of a door which started to melt into one wall.

''Amy, cover your eyes and take my hand,'' said the Doctor. She did as he instructed. The Doctor took one last look at the melting wall before scrunching his eyes closed and running directly towards it. They squished through the gooey metal and came out mostly clean on the other side, the remnants of it zooming off their skin and clothes and leeching back onto the rest of the substance.

''Ew,'' squirmed Amy, her face crumpled up in displeasure, ''never do that again.''

''If I ever have to do that again,'' replied the Doctor, ''I will not have done the future right. I'll have to go back and try again. Which, for me, is not out of the question.''

A crash, a thud, a bang and a thump made the floor tremble, causing Amy and the Doctor to stumble forward. They managed to stay on their feet and began their final escape from the melting hotel.


	23. Before It All Went Wrong

With tired legs the Doctor and Amy weren't up for more running, but with a collapsing building behind them and two halves of a ship trying to burst their way out of the ground below them, they didn't have much a choice.

The field bubbled like it was being boiled from underneath, and the only two real, live humans in the vicinity were speeding across it, putting all of their effort into not tumbling over.

The building behind them, which was not mostly silver with patches of 'The Vaconian' still showing, was rippling like a disturbed lake and rapidly losing height. It fell down from above the clouds, getting soaked up by the ground. In mere seconds, the fake hotel was gone, with a huge puddle of sentient metal being the only trace of it ever existing.

Amy and the Doctor made it past the edge of the lower deck with seconds to spare, as the two halves of the ship blasted out of the ground, sending hefty patches of grass and dirt flying up with them. Two giant black, metallic, oddly shaped ship halves that were beaten down and damaged rose up from the ground, a couple of hundred feet apart from each other.

Instead of a crumbling mess and a clear view into the decks where the spaceship had split apart inside the black hole, there were instead two undulant liquid metal walls where the ship had tried to fix itself. A long, rectangular prism connected the two halves, attached to each of the fluid ramparts; the tunnel that led from inside the lower deck to the lair of the android.

Amy and the Doctor stopped in their tracks to take in the view above them. The ships launched upwards at an incredible pace, but slowed down to make an adjustment. The two halves of the ship emanated a howling whistle as they geared up. The ear-shattering sound was followed by a hollow, ground-shaking crunch as the lower and upper deck reformed back into one whole ship at the cost of destroying the tunnel between them.

The mad man raced towards his box while the girl decided not to wait around any longer as huge chunks of metal came sinking through the sky. High above the clouds, the halves met in the bright light of the sun and challenged its rays with their own lucid blue glow that lit up like an exploding star as the two parts of the ship slammed together like two giant magnets and the craft collapsed in on itself, disappearing into another dimension.

The Doctor and Amy were flung forwards by the force of the metal shower that was pelting the ground. They stood up amidst the wreckage that was all around them. Craters and shards and dust and a strong lingering breeze.

''Where did you send them?'' Amy asked.

''Somewhere away from here,'' the Doctor replied, ''and everywhere else.''

''Good. Those guys really need a time out.''

''Now they've got all the time in their world.''

''And we've got all the time and all the space in ours.''

''Yes… all the space,'' mumbled the Doctor under his breath. He looked sadly into the air, the nine-hundred years that he was running from catching up for a brief instant. Amy seemed not to have heard him.

''Hmm?'' she inquired. The Doctor snapped out of his trance.

''What? Oh, yes. All of time and space, where do you want to go?''

Amy took a second to think about it. She narrowed her eyelids in pensive thought.

''Well,'' she finally said, ''vacation's over. Hotel turning out to be fake and disappearing completely kind of put a damper on things. Plus I've had a lifetime's worth of England. Let's go somewhere a little more alien.''

''I should warn you,'' said the Doctor, ''it's not always this tame. It gets a bit rough out there sometimes.''

''I think I can handle the universe.''

''I'm more worried about whether or not the universe can handle you.''

''Only one way to find out.''

They walked away from the mess they'd partially caused and headed back towards the TARDIS. Upon arrival, the Doctor unlocked the door and paused with a foot inside.

''There is just…'' he began, ''…one place I'd like to go first. If you don't mind.''

''After you, my liege,'' chucked Amy, waving her hand to the TARDIS door.

...

On a mesmerizingly sunny day, a big blue box unflappably materialised onto a field. The second the grinding roar of the TARDIS stopped the Doctor and Amy walked out of it and across the field with a purpose in their hearts. They had landed right next to 'The Vaconian', only it was different this time around. There was a car park.

People bustled about, driving in and out of the area through the dirt track that led away into the distance, some even flying in on air coaches. The two people who had walked in out of the phone box that nobody else had noticed. They charged coolly through the front doors.

Through the lobby with a few bumped shoulders that undeniably went noticed this time, they marched up to the front service desk and simply stood there smiling at the young blonde receptionist that was trying to keep up with the calls and the guests in line. After a few moments she saw the Doctor and Amy looking at her with curious smirks spread on their faces and stopped what she was doing to take them in.

''Hello,'' said Amy. ''When's your break?''

''Uh, um,'' stuttered Alison, ''I don't get one.''

''Hmm,'' replied Amy, ''well that doesn't seem fair. Does it, Doctor?''

''Not even slightly,'' stated the Doctor, still beaming. With his eyes never wavering from their fixation on Alison, he held up his sonic screwdriver and clicked. The drone sent the lobby into a blackout. Emergency generators kicked some power back on, but it wasn't enough to keep the workflow moving.

''Alright,'' the Doctor yelled to the masses of people waiting for service, ''everyone back to their rooms! Or the kitchen, or the games room, or the room with the little water, things, that you turn to clean your hand-''

''Bathroom,'' Amy interjected with a shake in her head.

''-or the bathroom!'' cried the Doctor. ''You'll all be sent an extra complimentary pillow mint, which you should savour, by the way. There may or may not be a poltergeist lurking the halls, depending on which year it is.''

The confused patrons hesitated to move but ultimately all slumped back away from the service desk.

''Now,'' grinned Amy to the bewildered Alison, ''fancy a coffee?''

''I've tried it. It's delicious,'' the Doctor avowed.

''I… I don't…'' stammered Alison.

''Oh, come on! You've got nothing else to do,'' exclaimed the Doctor. ''Go get your brothers to join in, have a good old family gathering. I have a feeling you three don't communicate so well.''

''How do you know-?''

''Never mind that, all that matters is the unacceptable lack of breaks you get in this job. We're here to change that; to _break it down_, if you will.''

The Doctor turned to Amy and chortled, but reeled his laughter in when he saw her blank face. He turned back to Alison and looked at her expectantly. She didn't know what to say.

''That's a yes,'' remarked Amy, ''Come on.''

She held out her hand.

''Where do you want to go for coffee?'' asked the Doctor. ''Because we can take you anywhere. Just for a day.''

''Anywhere you want. Anywhere in the universe,'' said Amy.

''There are cafés in every corner of every galaxy,'' the Doctor went on. ''Rule of the universe number three-hundred and five: if you're not within flying distance of a café, turn around and come back because you're going the wrong way.''

''Okay you are definitely making these up,'' groaned Amy.

''Who… who are you?'' questioned the muddled receptionist.

''Management,'' affirmed Amy, ''here to give you the work benefits you deserve. Also to tell you that I think the bellboy has a crush.''

Amy's hand was still outreached. Alison glanced at it, then to Amy, then to the Doctor, and back to Amy's hand. Shakily, she gently clasped her own onto it.

''I have every reason not to,'' she said, ''but for some reason I can't help but trust you.''

''We have that effect on people,'' Amy asserted.

Alison looked to the Doctor. He looked back with a touch of sadness in his eyes, knowing what was in her future, but grinned all the same.

''Come along, Stead. Just for a day.''


End file.
